Follow
by Daalny
Summary: What if Isobel had followed Ethel when she had seen her?
1. Chapter 1

Isobel Crawley considered herself to be a strong woman, capable of handling anything. She was a qualified nurse and had served abroad in France. She spearheaded causes because she truly believed that doing good works was essential. From this a she almost believed that she possessed an impermeable shield that could protect her. Her newest cause saw her in the city center of York helping women. As she walked along a particular street women were clad in shadow, popping out to see if the footfalls they heard were from a man. As Isobel passed she saw the faces emerge from the darkness only to dart back in like a cuckoo clock. A flash of movement caught her eye and she saw a woman with red hair. She knew this woman! Racking her brain she was trying to discern from where and her feet carried her towards the figure. Downton Abbey was the answer, she was a housemaid. Turning a corner she saw the woman in the arms of a man. Before she could stop herself she walked forward and uttered, "You can come with me."

The redhead turned towards Isobel her eyes pleading with her to leave. The man she was with became belligerent. "Silly bitch! I already have one."

His huge arm moved and Isobel suddenly realized that her shield had the strength of tissue paper. This was the last thought she had before she was knocked unconscious.

Dr. Richard Clarkson drove with determination, a Police station in York had requested his presence. When he entered the duty sergeant escorted him from the entry office to the back. Isobel Crawley was sitting in a chair from where he was he could see her hair was mussed and her lip split. As he moved closer he could see the beginnings of a bruise on her cheek.

His anger which he had been in control of on drive here was beginning to uncoil. "What happened?" He asked amazed that his voice was level.

Another policeman approached him, "She was following a prostitute. The punter got angry that she was interfering and did that." He said pointing towards Isobel's face. "We have a doctor we could call but she won't let anyone near her."

Richard came beside Isobel's chair and knelt down beside her, he went to touch her hands but she pulled them back as if she had been burnt. Keeping his movements small he opened his hand and presented it to her palm up. Seeing his gesture she turned to actually look at him, "Richard?" she asked almost inaudibly.

"I'm here." He said keeping his voice even.

She looked down at his hand which was still open in offering and she took it. With this small token of trust he then began assessing her injuries. Pupillary light reflex was good, she knew where she was when asked, and had no ringing in her ears. The cuts and bruises would fade and heal. "Besides what I can see, are you hurt?"

She seemed confused by his words so he tried again, "Did he _touch_ you?"

The policeman intervened, "Never got that far sir. After he smacked her the prostitute began screaming. Mrs. Crawley is known around here for the work she does. Some of the women have gotten a meal out of her so they too sounded the alarm. The man is in the cells."

Richard saw that her clothes seemed to be in one piece and there didn't seem to be anymore wounds. "Does she need to make a statement?"

The policeman shook his head, "Statement was given by an Ethel Parks."

Isobel had become quiet again and it worried Richard, "May I take her home?"

Wrapping an arm around Isobel he helped her out of her seat and escorted her out of the police station. His worried intensified when she allowed him to help her into the vehicle. Getting behind the wheel he started the car, "I'm going to take you back to Crawley House."

At his words her stillness was broken, "No! No, please! Don't take me back there, I can't let them see me. Please don't make me go." Her breath hitched at the last words and her eyes darted around the car as if searching for an exit.

Richard had never seen such an explosive reaction from Isobel. Again keeping his voice level and movements small he addressed her, "Isobel, Isobel. If you don't want to go I shan't take you. You have complete control, tell me where you want to go."

Isobel's mind was racing, where could she go? Crawley House was out and she wanted to be nowhere near the Abbey. Where was a place that would be a plausible place for her to stay? "Hospital, take me to the hospital."

"All right, that is where we will go." He put the car into gear and slowly the city gave way to countryside.


	2. Chapter 2

As industrial architecture faded from the sides of streets to be replaced by hedges Isobel began to relax. however, when Downton loomed her anxiety reasserted itself. She began to fidget wringing her hands in her lap. Richard could see this out of the corner of his eye. Knowing that it was a few more miles until Downton was reached he pulled to the side of the road.

He didn't want to deal with passenger suffering a panic attack in an automobile. He had comforted soldiers though panic attacks but never a woman from an assault. There was no training for it in Medical School and the thought of one actually being mandated made his stomach turn for the reason for the class should never happen. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head.

"All right, when you're ready we'll go." His hand went to switch off the engine when she covered it with one her own. The touch seemed to last for only a millisecond before she pulled her hand back. She exhaled and pointed at the road, "let's go."

He obeyed her command and put the car back onto the road to Downtown. Getting her into the hospital was easy, number one it was dark and number two if she had been seen she had reason to be there. Richard decided to cloister her in his office, he directed her to the small cot and she sat down. He left to retrieve some items from the medicine cabinet. She watched as he placed bottles before her. He took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands in the basin in the corner. He then approached her slowly, "If you would like I could have one of the nurses help?"

She shook her head in the negative, her silence made him itch. His hand reached out to her chin to tilt it up at this her eyes slammed shut and she sucked in a breath. Instantly Richard's hands went to his sides and the itch blossomed into rage. He wanted to tear the man who did this apart with his bare hands. Isobel opened her eyes to see that Richard had gone still.

She began to cry, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry" She babbled.

Kneeling down so he could look up at her he met her gaze, "No, no, no, no. Don't be sorry. You don't have to be sorry. Would you like to tend to yourself? I can leave."

Her hand touched him again briefly, this time on his exposed forearm, "No, don't leave. Could you hand me the cotton wool and antiseptic please?"

He passed over the items without a word. Isobel applied the antiseptic to the cotton wool and applied it to her lip. She gasped at the stinging sensation. Behind him Richard reached for a small bowl and held it out to Isobel who placed the used cotton into it. She then repeated the process of soaking the cotton. Her hand went to apply it to the cut on her forehead. Richard could see that she was going to miss the area, without thinking he covered her hand with his and guided it down to the cut. What was remarkable was that she didn't break free from his grasp, it was only when she hissed at the contact of the antiseptic did he realize that he was holding onto her and let go. Soon her face was clean. Rising from his position he fetched a headache powder and glass of water, he showed her both items and she nodded before he tore into the packet and emptied the contents into the glass. He made sure she could see his actions, she watched as his left hand swished the glass in a small circle letting the force of the water dissolve the clumps of the powder. He offered her glass and waited patiently for her to take it which she did. Calmly she swallowed the mixture and handed him back the glass.

In the corner, over the hand washing basin, there was small mirror and she went to it. Normally her fringe was swept up and away out of her face, if she let it hang down it would cover the worst of the cuts on her forehead. The split lip and bruise to her cheek could not be hidden so easily. She could probably lessen the bruise by wearing her hair down but she quickly dismissed that idea. Another way to minimize the damage was with cosmetics but she didn't own any and the thought of buying some made her think of Ethel with her rouged cheeks.

Ethel, the police had told her the name. The housemaid with the baby. The hospital office seemed to fade away and she thought she could smell the odor of the street in York. She must have made a noise for he said her name. She turned to face him, letting his face remind her that she was in Downton.

"Ethel Parks." Was all she could say.

Richard remembered the name for the officer had mentioned she was the one who had made the statement. He kept his mouth shut, letting her lead. "She was a housemaid at Downton Abbey, she had a child by an officer who a patient in the convalescent home."

Richard bullied his memory, there were many soldiers who were flirtatious with the nurses and staff at the Abbey. Suddenly he knew, the redheaded housemaid tucking in the blanket, "Major Bryant" he uttered to himself. The Spanish Flu, while he was caring for the dying Lavinia Swire and the gravely ill Lady Cora. There had been an outburst, he hadn't been privy to all of it but word travels fast among servants. The Bryants had been there for luncheon. Now things made sense, why Isobel _knew_ the prostitute and why she was so compelled to follow.

She turned back to the mirror and regarded herself once more. Her image made her tired and she turned away from the mirror. Richard watched as she went back to the cot pulled down the covers and got in shoes and all! Her body shifted so she was turned away from him, her back was facing his desk. This was new territory for Dr. Clarkson, he went to his desk and sat down. He switched on his desk lamp and began reviewing charts. Isobel could hear the scratching of his pen as it moved across the paper. This noise gave her comfort, the powder was swirling nicely in her brain taking away the headache she carried, she felt her eyelids closing and she didn't fight it.


	3. Chapter 3

Richard could tell by the cadence of her breathing when she had fallen asleep. Now his watch would begin, disturbances in sleep were quite common after a traumatic event. No doubt being punched in the face while trying to protect a prostitute counted as a traumatic event. What comforted him somewhat was the fact she hadn't been raped or otherwise touched in a vulgar way. One thing he didn't understand was why she hadn't removed her shoes? Was it due to tiredness or was it something deeper? He threw down his pen in disgust at not knowing the answer and opened the large drawer at the bottom of his desk withdrawing a bottle and glass. If there was ever a time he needed a drink it was now. He welcomed the burn as the whiskey traveled down his throat. Shaking his head he put the glass down, he knew she was once again working for a charitable organization but he had no clue it was with prostitutes. His last thought about her work was that she was aiding refugees of the Great War.

The terror she had displayed in the car about someone from the Abbey knowing what had happened was extreme. However, if they too didn't know about the work she was doing she might receive a scolding much worse than the beating she had just endured. He could see the possibilities in his minds eye, being lectured about bringing shame onto the Crawley name by working with prostitutes. Why couldn't she just leave things alone? Lady Cora had driven her off once to France. Isobel had meant it when she had told him that she had to be useful. Cora took away that usefulness in the pissing contest that had been over schedules of staff at Downton Abbey. With the ending of the war ended brought the marriage of her son and she had needed something to focus on, to devote her attention to.

A thought struck him, did they even know the what she was doing or did they merely leave it at _Cousin Isobel is off saving the world again?_

Reaching for his glass he drained the contents in one long swallow, relishing the burn. Looking down he found his pen and got back to work.

_The sound of her heels seemed to echo more loudly than they should. Seeming to bounce off pillars and physically push her back. Nonetheless she had to move forward for the way behind was blocked. Heads poked out to stare at her, some faces had no eyes and some had no mouths. Moving forward, she had to move forward. Dead end, then he was there-the burly man. He smiled at her menacingly and began to approach her. Fear settled deep in her belly and she knew she must leave. A quick glance over her shoulder still showed the way blocked. More faces were now watching. He approached, from somewhere behind her she could hear someone call her name. The rank smell of stale booze and sweat flooded her nostrils as he approached. She couldn't cry out, she heard her name again and latched onto it._

A whimper had Richard launching from his desk, she was dreaming. Moving to the cot he could see the anguish on her face. He called her name and it had no effect. She had to wake up, now! Her left arm was over the blanket and his fingers curled around her bicep. Keeping his grip loose he shook her and continued to call her name. She didn't bolt upright or scream. Instead her brown eyes snapped open revealing terror which was quickly replaced with confusion. Richard leaned back so his body wasn't blocking the light of his lamp so she could see the office. Understanding came to Isobel and she sat up, the blanket was flung back and she put her feet on the floor. As her heels made contact with the floorboards Richard then understood. She had gone to bed with her shoes on so she could run at a moments notice the thought turned his stomach. "Isobel." he said and she stared at him.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm her pounding heart she finally said his name in acknowledgement. Opening his hand he offered it to her palm up as he did before. She took it, feeling more calm at the physical contact. Through the link of their hands he could feel the tremors in her body. His physicians instincts took over, "Are you in pain?"

She considered the question, her head ached only slightly and her lip only hurt if she probed it with her tongue. Not trusting her voice she shook her head to answer his question. Richard copied her silent communication and nodded before standing up. The glass he had used for her powder was still unwashed so he merely refilled own glass with a finger of whiskey before giving it to her. While a quarter to four in the morning was an odd time for drink she accepted it anyway letting the alcohol steady her nerves. She could see the marks that his mouth had made on the glass and found she didn't care.

When dawn's light came through the windows Isobel gathered her courage, "I want to go to Crawley House to bathe. After that can I came back here? I can inventory the new stock."

"Of course" he confirmed. He went to the coat tree and retrieved their items. The village square was seemingly deserted as they walked through it. She let herself inside and Richard waited by the door for the telltale clicks to know that it was securely locked. Going to his own cottage he washed and shaved before donning clean clothes and returning to the hospital. He took the time to remake the rumpled cot in the corner before swiping up the glasses and placing them in a sink for washing.

No matter how hot Isobel ran the water she couldn't seem to get warm. Normally she would luxuriate in a bath, almost becoming one with the water, getting lost counting the ripples on the surface. Today she merely scrubbed her body with the bar of soap and washed her hair with force. Isobel decided not to do anything different with her hair lest it garner more attention than her wounds Dressing for the hospital she reached up onto the small shelf where her nursing apron was neatly folded, she was ready. She could hear muffled clangs from the kitchen, a signal that Mrs. Bird or Molesey were up and about. She waited until she heard the whistle of a kettle before moving swiftly to the front door and leaving Crawley House.

Richard was nursing a cup of tea when she came in, he watched as she set her handbag down then placed her apron over her head before securing it behind her. Before turning to the store room she gave him a brief wave in acknowledgement. Isobel allowed herself to get lost in the work, she was amazed when nearly fifteen minutes went by before she thought about the events of yesterday. Did her face hurt more or was it her pride? She had honestly thought that being on the side of good would somehow protect her. She was wrong. What else was she wrong about? She didn't want to answer that so she went back to the shelves.


	4. Chapter 4

That night she slept in her own bed at Crawley House, what wasn't known was that she slept again with her shoes on. Her dreams once again plagued by the eyeless and mouthless women popping out from the shadows to stare at her before the burly man came out from the shadows to cut off her escape route. When she woke she looked for Richard only to remember that she was in her own bed, in Crawley House. Come the morning she was resolved not to let the events that had happened to her overwhelm her. She chose her dress carefully, accenting it with a particular hat. The brim was wide and helped cast a shadow over her face essentially muting the bruise on her face.

Isobel rang the bell at the servants entrance to gain access to Downton Abbey. She hoped that her timing was right and that she would only encounter a few servants. With it being lunchtime hopefully all the footman and Carson were in the dining room. She did not want to have the assessing look of the butler or any of the family for that matter. One of the houseboy's passed her carrying firewood, she was virtually ignored by everyone and she felt relieved. From the kitchen she could hear the high pitched warbling of Mrs. Patmore as she shouted commands. Mrs. Hughes's sitting room was near and the door was open, she knocked softly. The Scottish housekeeper turned towards the intrusion in her hands was what looked like a list ."Oh Mrs. Crawley, we didn't know of your arrival."

Isobel plastered a small smile on her face, hiding her wince caused by her cut lip. "Actually I came to see you, I need your help."

Mrs. Hughes was stunned and pointed towards herself, "My help?" She said in disbelief.

Isobel nodded deeply, "Yes, do you remember a housemaid named Ethel Parks?"

Mrs. Hughes set her list down, the housemaid who she had caught in flagrante delicto with an officer. She had dismissed the woman on the spot. "Yes, yes I do."

"Do you have a forwarding address for her?" Isobel asked striving for a light tone.

"I might, could be anywhere." sighed Mrs. Hughes dismissively as she waved towards her desk.

Isobel changed her tone, "It's imperative that you find it, she is in a very bad way."

Mrs. Hughes was not moved, in her mind Ethel's problems were of her own making. She had tried unsuccessfully to help the woman and it had been disastrous. She remembered the ugly scene at the luncheon with the Bryant's. Once bitten twice shy.

Taking a chance Isobel lifted her hands to her head and slowly withdrew the long pin releasing her hat. When she removed it from her head Mrs. Hughes could see the damage done to Isobel more clearly and her eyes went wide. "Ethel has become a prostitute, one of her clients did this to me."

The breath left Mrs. Hughes as if she had been struck, and she watched dumbfounded as Mrs. Crawley replaced her hat. "I'll see if I can find it."

"Thank you." Isobel stated before turning to leave. Behind her she could hear drawers being opened and the rustling of paper. Her exit went unnoticed and she exhaled shakily as the door to servants entrance closed as she left.

At the hospital Dr. Clarkson had made his rounds and had given orders to the nurses, no new patients had been admitted. He would be leaving soon to check on his home patients. He stepped outside and made his way to the bike rack, he secured his bag on the back before removing the bicycle. As he began peddling through the village he saw her, he was pleased to see the look of determination back on her face but was concerned that perhaps she was trying too hard to launch back into her life. Not for the first time he wondered at what he could do to help her.

These thoughts were swept aside as he pedaled towards the home of his first patient. His day was spent pedaling from home to home making the day long and at the end of it he found himself at his desk scribbling in his patients charts. The sleepless night he had spent watching over Isobel was catching up with him.

* * *

Isobel had changed for bed, carefully she placed her shoes on the floor before climbing into bed. Without her footwear she found she couldn't sleep. Her eyes traced the shadows the on the wall and ceiling. She tried reading but her mind couldn't focus on the words to follow the plot. Swinging her feet over the bed she stuffed her feet into her shoes.

* * *

Richard had fallen asleep at his desk, with the lamp still burning bright. He woke and didn't know why, blearily he looked up and saw the lower portion of a body standing over him. Any panic he might have felt at this intruder was overridden by the fact the person leaning over him was warm and he was cold. Slowly he raised his head, his eyes still hadn't adjusted to the bright lamplight. His head was heavy and he leaned it against the source of the warmth. Beneath his cheek he could feel the slight scratchiness of wool and then he felt fingers gently card through his hair.

* * *

Isobel had left her bed and had come to the hospital, merely throwing on her overcoat over her nightgown. Silently she had let herself into Dr. Clarkson's office and saw the man she was looking forward slumped over his desk. His cheek pillowed by a chart. She didn't know if she should wake him and have him move to his cot. Through her coat she could feel the chill in the office and made a decision. At her approach he began to stir and she watched as he fought to raise his head. Her heart broke for him and she moved closer to him. When his head pushed into her stomach she smiled and raised her hand to run her fingers through his hair letting him know he was safe.


	5. Chapter 5

When Richard woke in the morning he found he was in his overnight cot, although he had no clue as to how he got there. His last memory was of him working at his desk. However, it wouldn't be the first time he had woken up in somewhere other than he remembered. Many a night he had collapsed onto this very bed with no memory of it only to wake in the morning for another patient. During the war he rarely left his office for the comfort of his cottage.

As he pushed back the blankets and sat up, looking down he saw his shoes beside the bed in a neat row. On the nights he slept here he generally removed his shoes and kicked them underneath the cot, letting them fall where they may. Unless he had sleepwalked from his desk to the cot and then methodically taken off his shoes it was more probable that someone else had removed them for him and placed them here. This suspicion was further heightened when his hand went to his waistcoat to check the time and he found his pocket watch missing.

He smiled when he came to the only conclusion-Isobel Crawley. While the nurses had access to his office they would have woken him if needed and he would have remembered that! Isobel had the access and the compassion to put him to bed, also if he were honest she would be the only one he would allow to do those things. He stood and padded over to his desk where the files were stacked and in the middle of his desk was his watch.

When the door behind him opened suddenly he nearly fumbled his watch onto the floor. Luckily he was able to regain control of the wayward timepiece. Isobel entered looking sheepish at having frightened him. Her apology came in the form of a steaming mug of tea.

He took a sip before gesturing to the desk with the mug, "Being there was the last I remember. Do you know anything of how I got into bed?"

She said nothing, but the blush that colored her cheeks and good portion of her neck let him know that his suspicions had been right. He left her in charge while he went home to change. Isobel chuckled as her mind replayed the scene from a just a few hours ago.

_The way his head had come to rest in her midsection like a child seeking comfort. In his sleep addled state he had somewhat easy to move, he followed her suggestions without protest. As his body sank into the mattress he groaned, wanting to soothe him she ran her fingers through his hair again before loosening the laces on his boots before removing them. Out of habit she squared them up beside the bed. The fob on his watch caught her attention and she removed it so it wouldn't be damaged. As she pulled up the blankets he turned onto his side muttering something in his sleep, again her fingers found themselves in his hair. With him asleep she had no fear about touching him._

It was during the noon day break that a letter was delivered to the hospital.

"What's that?" Clarkson asked off hand.

"I asked Mrs. Hughes if she had Ethel's forwarding address. I want to find her." She answered.

At this Richard abandoned his sandwich and came near to Isobel, "Don't the police have that information?"

Isobel scoffed, "I heard her in the station when she was giving her statement. The address she gave is actually for a seedy coffee house in York. Apparently all the girls use it when they are picked up for solicitation."

"I have a half-day coming, I can drive you." He said softly.

He didn't say, "Absolutely not." or "Why do you need to go?"

It was his simple understanding of her need and his want to help her in it that had her wanting to reach out for him. However, her hand stayed by her side. It was stupid her mind screamed that the truth that Richard would never hurt her but she just couldn't make herself make contact. All the other times that she had touched him were brief, safe and to stop him some way. Never for herself, not for pleasure.

When that man had hit her he had taken from her the ability to freely touch and be touched by another man. For a moment she thought how worse it would be if he had done more damage. Her stomach threatened rebellion and she thought back to what she would say if she found Ethel.

The trip to into York passed in silence, Isobel found she couldn't engage her voice for small talk. A million thoughts were racing through Isobel's head. This was the first time she had been back since the assault. Had all the prostitutes fled? Had the ones she'd been aiding gone back to the street? Would she be able to work with them again? Would Ethel be found? She tried to mentally address each one of these concerns so it could be boxed away in her mind instead of running free like a wild animal.

Isobel pointed to an area where he could park the car. As he stopped the engine she exited and he went to join her, "No, please stay here."

His eyes widened, "After what happened you must be mad. I'm coming with you."

Isobel controlled her voice so she wouldn't shout at him, "I may look like I stick out but they know me here. You look too intimidating...you'll scare them off."

Richard narrowed his eyes before stripping off his coat and tossing it along with his hat into the car. He then rolled up his sleeves, unbuttoned his waistcoat, hid the chain of his pocket watch and loosened his tie before running his hands through his hair to tousle it. Reaching into the back of the car he withdrew an item which Isobel couldn't see. She watched in awe as a cigarette was screwed between his lips and he struck a match to light it. The professional look of Doctor Clarkson was transformed into that of a common man. No one would pay any attention to him. "Better?" He asked as he exhaled a stream of smoke.

She nodded and went off in the direction Mrs. Hughes had provided. Richard followed behind her, keeping her in sight at all times. He would make damn sure no one touched her.


	6. Chapter 6

Not for the first time did Isobel have Greek Myths running through her head. Instead of the tale Perseus and Andromeda she thought of Orpheus and Eurydice. The husband and wife torn apart on their wedding day by a death.

Isobel felt like Orpheus with Richard as Eurydice behind her. She knew he was there for she could smell the smoke from his cigarette and hear his boot heels on the ground yet she felt such anxiety that she wished to turn her head to actually see him but knew she couldn't. In the myth if Orpheus turned Eurydice would disappear forever. Here in this place if she turned and acknowledged Richard the street would see and word would spread. The street was a living being with ears and eyes of its own. It had taken time for Isobel to become accepted here, at first she ignored or laughed off. Slowly women had come to her, in the beginning it was for a bite to eat or a warm place to sleep for a few hours. Her lessons with sewing did attract the attention of a few who were able to leave the life of a prostitute behind. From these shaky beginning she had become accepted by the women, it wasn't all encompassing she had taunts and jeers lobbed at her but these were more from the prostitutes saving face in front of each other. Isobel truly believed that no woman would actively choose this way of life but encountered those that fiercely defended the choice they had made to be a streetwalker. Ethel had come to her aid when she was most vulnerable it was time that favor was repaid in full.

Richard's half-day meant they had gotten into York well into the afternoon, the sun was beginning to sink lower and the light was giving way to more shadows. The area where she was attacked was nearing, it had to be crossed for the time it would take to circumnavigate it would be too much. This would truly be like marching into the underworld. She inhaled deeply finding comfort from Richard's cigarette smoke and cautiously she made her way.

Richard kept his eyes moving, taking in his surroundings but making sure to keep a good distance away from Isobel. His lungs were unhappy with him, he hadn't smoked a cigarette in decades. Yet it occupied his hands and helped him blend in with the others. Other men were filling the street, some having gotten out of factory shifts. He watched as Isobel slowed before entering a walkway. At first he didn't understand her hesitance, it became all too apparent when he followed. A voice near to him called , "Hey darlin'"

He turned to view a woman, painfully thin, the manubrium prominent under the skin of her chest. His clinical mind began assessing the woman as a patient. Her diagnosis-malnutrition. Others beckoned him, needing to stay in character he winked at one, the action earned him a smile and he saw rotting teeth. Thankfully the end of the walkway was nearing, Isobel took a right and he followed.

The lowliness of the population here was apparent in appearance of the upkeep of the brick buildings, there was none. Clothes hung from line strung between buildings, rubbish was everywhere. Richard's nose as working overtime trying to catalogue each individual smell. To keep his mind focused he lit up another cigarette letting the smell of tobacco become the dominant fragrance.

Isobel stopped outside of a door, she reached into her pocket to check the number against the piece of paper Mrs. Hughes had sent. While she was doing this Richard took up position behind on the other side of the brick houses to watch. She raised her hand and knocked, the door opened and a man shot out, hastily pulling his clothes tight around him. Ethel appeared a worn dressing gown most likely made from art silk hung off her frame, her hair was a tangled mess and she was pale.

"Hello Ethel." isobel delivered, her tone was that of someone greeting an old friend.

The redhead clutched her robe more tightly around her, "How did you find me?"

"I asked Mrs Hughes, I would so like to help you." Isobel found her voice breaking, "Please. Would you let me?"

Ethel shook her head, "Don't understand Mrs. Crawley I'm not looking for help from you for myself I'm past all that."

The tone of defeat was strong in voice and Isobel felt a chill settle into her. This chill increased ten fold when a child's murmuring drifted through the door capturing her attention. She stiffened and from his position Richard knew there was a problem he flicked his cigarette away before his legs carried across the distance

"I've got to go, thanks for trying Ma'am but there's no point" Ethel said as she began closing the door. Richard got there first and pushed his way into the house.

Ethel's voice was sharp, "Cash up front!"

Isobel pushed herself through the door also and was taken aback by the scene around her. Squalid didn't begin to describe what she saw. Richard was moving swiftly before he came to a small area in the back which had been curtained off with threadbare sheet. His arm swung it aside and saw a child sitting on the floor playing with some toys. Instantly he knelt down and began checking him for injuries or signs of disease.

Ethel raced towards her son, shouting "Keep your hands off him or I'll kill you!"

Isobel reached for Ethel's shoulders, "It's Doctor Clarkson!"

Ethel heard the name and her mind brought forth the image of an older gentleman in an Army uniform. She had seen him tending to the convalescing soldier at Downton Abbey. However, the man before her looked like a punter, she looked again. The moustache was familiar and if she mentally combed his hair back and righted his clothes then yes she could begin to see it was Doctor Clarkson. Ethel then remembered that it was Mrs. Crawley who was with her and she wouldn't bring a punter here.

Slowly Ethel calmed and she told Isobel of the Bryant's filling in the missing pieces from the luncheon during the Spanish Flu. While Ethel talked Richard noted that little Charlie was relatively healthy. No doubt all the money Ethel made was going to feed her son. Nonetheless, no child should be sent to a curtained corner while his mother performed sexual acts for money. Ethel spoke for nearly an hour and through it all Isobel listened. She passed no judgement. At the end of the hour Ethel had made her decision, Isobel swore that she would help she would write the Bryant's herself.

Richard had been playing with Charlie, letting the boy open and close his pocket watch and play with the fob. When it was time to leave, Isobel went over to Charlie to say hello. While she was doing this Richard withdrew some cash and handed it to Ethel.

"I don't want your pity." She spat angrily.

Clarkson pressed the money into her hand, "It's not pity, you saved her." He said cocking his head toward Isobel. "Until we can save you let this buy your food. When we come back I will examine you and treat you."

Ethel swallowed before nodding in agreement, she knew all too well the damages that were incurred in what she was doing. She cleared her throat, "That man who did that her to her, when he got out of jail one of the other girls stabbed him. He's not dead but he won't be comin' round no more."


	7. Chapter 7

While Clarkson was a healer by profession he was also a man and upon hearing the news that the pig who had attacked Isobel had been stabbed he felt his lip twitch in a grin. As much as he wanted to pummel the man himself somehow it was more fitting that a woman had inflicted the harm. His father had instilled him a great respect for women and that a true man treated them with reverence. If any man touched a woman in violence he was an animal and should be treated as such.

He wouldn't tell Isobel, he would let Ethel or another one of the women tell her about her attacker. As they crossed over the threshold and came out into the open they noted the light was beginning to fade around them. Isobel began walking back the way they came and he followed. Beside her Isobel heard Richard exhale before he ran his hands through his hair again, a quick glance let her know it was not for character but because of frustration. This day had been one of the most draining he had had in awhile. Thrusting his hand into his pocket he felt the cigarette packet he had put there earlier. Pulling it from his pocket the dim light allowed him to see there was one fag left, shrugging he withdrew it from the packet and placed it between his lips before retrieving the matches from his other pocket. He stopped and so did Isobel she watched as he struck the match and cupped the flame in his hands. His face was illuminated briefly before he inhaled the flame through the cigarette to bring it to life.

"I didn't know you smoked." Isobel said as she advanced up the street keeping her face forward.

Richard was just behind her, she heard his voice float to her, "I don't, had the odd one growing up. I'm sure you know how lads can be. Some of the Canadian soldiers we treated during the war brought in cigarettes. I gave them to patients as incentives for starting or continuing therapy, some made it into the motor." He shrugged, "Might as well get rid of them now."

They would be nearing the area where the prostitutes loitered and he slowed his gait, if she was going to continue to work here he wasn't going to jeopardize that for her. Isobel walked quickly through the streets wanting to traverse the walkway as quickly as she could. In her dreams the mouthless and eyeless women would emerge from their berths so she could see them. At this moment she was awake and if she were to conquer her fear she had to go through. Richard coughed behind her and the sound made her smile.

Steeling herself she stepped into her nightmare, as she walked through she could hear the women calling to Richard. The whispers didn't invoke fear instead it enraged her. The exit loomed and both of them stepped through. In this tale Orpheus and Eurydice had made it through the underworld together. She found she was not untouched by her journey and carried a slight tremble which she endeavored to hide from him. Her thoughts turned to Ethel, that woman was going to give up her son. Whether it was to the Bryant's or some other situation such as her death by the hands of a client or disesase she was going to lose her child. Losing _anything_ didn't sit well with Isobel.

Slowing her pace she waited for him to come alongside her. She surprised herself by reaching out and taking the cigarette from him. It was his turn to watch in awe as she took a drag from it. She exhaled and he watched the smoke curl around her. Her right hand extended towards him giving him back the cigarette. The fingers of his left hand brushed against her as he took hold of the cigarette.

They were nearing the car and Richard's curiosity won out, "Why did you do that?" He asked gesturing to the cigarette.

She stopped and turned to him shrugging, "Same taste."

His face showed puzzlement, had she smoked when younger? His puzzlement quickly turned to shock and then to anticipation as she moved closer to him. She felt no fear and she wanted to touch him for her own pleasure. He had a moment to flick the cigarette aside and both watched the ember fly across the dark before fading. She turned back to face him bringing her palms up to rest on his chest while his left hand went cup her cheek before she pressed her lips to his. Since he wasn't wearing a hat there was no awkward bumping of brims. Her mouth opened beneath his and he found she tasted like an ashtray which made him thankful that she had done what she did for he must taste the same. The kiss didn't last long since they were out in the open. Mutually they pulled away and he opened the door to the car and she got in. He started the engine, switched on the lights and the began the drive back to Downton.

Not far into the journey Isobel fell asleep, keeping the wheel in one hand he reached out and grabbed his suit jacket with the other to drape it over her. Fractured bones he could set, a laceration he could stitch, he was adept at mending a broken body. Mending a life was different, the fact that Isobel did this on a daily basis made him realize that he had seriously underestimated her.

* * *

**A/N: My thanks to all who have reviewed thus far.**


	8. Chapter 8

Slowly the car came to a stop outside Crawley House. Isobel awoke, blearily rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Richard escorted her to the door and while he wanted to he didn't kiss her goodnight. What he didn't know was that when Isobel climbed into bed she was not wearing her shoes. In her dreams she was once again in the shadows of the walkway. However, when the women would emerge to stare at her Richard was there beside her and beheaded them. The exit was shining with light and wasn't blocked by the man and together they strode through it.

In the days that followed Isobel wrote to the Bryant's having gotten the address once again through Mrs. Hughes. The housekeeper could not get away to join Isobel at Crawley house to mediate between Ethel and the Bryant's, instead Doctor Clarkson decided to fill that position. Earlier that morning Ethel Parks came to the Downton Cottage Hospital where Doctor Clarkson gave her a thorough examination. There had been consequences from the choices Ethel had made. He drew up a measure of Salvarsan and injected her with it. When he was finished Ethel asked him, "Do you think they'll do it?"

"You mean come?" He asked off hand.

"Oh they'll come." Ethel said with a laugh.

Richard kept quiet, he knew before Ethel opened her mouth what she had planned. Today she was going to surrender her child to the Bryant's. The only stumbling block he could foresee was not from the child's grandparents but from Isobel. The quality that annoyed and attracted Richard to no end was Isobel's optimism. He had first been introduced to it with a case of dropsy. On some base level he was sure that Isobel knew that Ethel had to give Charlie to the Bryant's. There would be no fairytale ending here. Nonetheless, Isobel had elements of fairytale's around her. Matthew was essentially a prince married to a princess and living in a castle. This day was going to end badly for someone. Soon the appointed hour approached and he made his way to Crawley House. Once inside he made his way to the drawing room and placed himself next to the fireplace. From his position he could survey the whole room and he watched as the couple entered and sat down.

"Thank you for letting us come." Mrs Bryant said her tone slightly wavering no doubt she was nervous.

There was no nervousness in Mr. Bryant's voice, "And why have we come? To hear more guff about a mother's love?"

RIchard had been witness to some ugly scenes as a doctor and as a soldier and was able to mold his face into a mask. He would not react to the venom from Mr. Bryant. Isobel however, hadn't seemed to regain her impereability. "Mr Bryant, that's not fair."

The man shrugged, "Isn't it? We know what you are now, Ethel. We know how far you've fallen. I didn't want to let Mrs Bryant in the same room as you, but she insisted."

His wife's eyes darted to him in fear, "What Mr Bryant means—"

Ethel now openly showed fear, "How could you know about me?"

Bryant scoffed again and Richard remembered Major Bryant, they were cut from the same cloth. "Do you think it's so difficult to find out about a woman like you? Ha. I could give you a list of your clients."

Ethel's fear had morphed into indignation, "You mean, you've had me followed?"

Mr. Bryant bristled with righteous indignation, "What? Didn't you think we'd keep a check on our grandson?"

"We're not judging you." Mrs Bryant sputtered and Richard inwardly sighed, this was not going well.

"I'm judging her. I judge her and I find her wanting." Bryant spat.

The smile Mrs. Bryant was wearing was starting to annoy Richard, "Ethel, we've decided to offer you some money, to make things easier so that you won't have to..

"Unless you don't want to give it up." Mr. Bryant spoke as if he were discussing the weather.

All eyes in the room seemed to bore into Mr. Bryant's head, a silent plea for him to shut his mouth.

Isobel found her voice, "Well, that's very generous, isn't it, Ethel?"

Ethel couldn't speak, when Doctor Clarkson had given her money it didn't feel as dirty as this offer seemed. Wanting to feel clean she leaned forward and kissed her son.

"It throws a different light on things." Isobel added.

The awkwardness in the room was palpable, everyone's senses were extended all heard the rattling of china.

"Oh, there's Mrs Bird with the tea." Isobel rose to go to the door. Wanting to get away herself Ethel also got to her feet, with this motion an idea began swirling in Isobel's mind, "Would you like to help me, Ethel?"

With Ethel and Isobel gone Richard turned his attention to the three remaining people in the room, Mr. and Mrs. Bryant and their grandson. A teddy bear was produced and Richard saw Mr. Bryant's face show genuine delight at interacting with the child.

Poor Mrs. Bird was at a loss, for her employer and prostitute were out in the hall. "Should I not take it in, then?"

"I can do that." Ethel proclaimed. As she reached for it Isobel watched as Mrs. Bird pulled away. Isobel was taken aback by this.

"Sure I don't need your help." Mrs. Bird delivered with a challenge in her eye.

"Thank you, Mrs Bird." Isobel said dismissively, Ethel needed a break from the onslaught of negativity.

Instead of surrendering the tray directly to Ethel the tray set down on a table with a thump. Mrs. Bird's protest was duly noted. Isobel could see the pain on Ethel's face and she wanted the pain to stop. "Ethel... you don't have to do this. You have a choice."

While Ethel felt indebted to Mrs. Crawley she also felt sorry for her for the woman had no clue. "You mean I should take money from that man? It won't be much. Enough to keep us from starving, but not much more."

"But even if Charlie doesn't go to a famous school or university, you'll be there to give him love." Isobel said lightly but even to her ears it sounded false.

Ethel saw through her, "Yeah, I suppose Mr Crawley went to a famous school and university."

At the mention of Matthew, Isobel blanched.

In that moment Ethel knew what needed to be done "I see. Thank you, Mrs Crawley."

Isobel saw that a decision had been reached and she swallowed. With reverent care Ethel picked up the tray and entered the drawing room. As Ethel effortlessly set it down and began pouring she addressed the Bryant's. "I won't take your money but you'll be pleased by what I've come here to say."

Tea was just a formality and all in the room seemed to swallow the scalding liquid as quickly as possible.

"You'll want to say goodbye." Mrs. Bryant half asked half commanded to Ethel.

All watched as a Mother knelt down and captured the hands of her child, "I give you my blessings for your whole life long, my darling boy."

All could hear her words and all knew that her child had no clue as to what she was saying, in fact he just parroted "yes" too absorbed in his teddybear. Ethel could see this and swallowed around the lump in her throat, "You won't remember that or me. But I'll stay with you all the same."

"Let's not make a meal of it." Mr. Bryant said in poorly veiled boredom

The three climbed into the car, Mrs. Bryant voice was cheerful but hollow, "I'll write to you."

The doors slammed shut, the engine roared to life and with that they were gone.

Clarkson moved beside Ethel standing next to her shoulder, "You've done a hard thing today, Ethel. The hardest thing of all."

"You don't agree, do you?" Ethel said as she turned to look at Isobel.

"I don't want to make you doubt now that it's happened." She said.

Richard choose his words carefully, "You've done the right thing for the boy, Ethel, whatever anyone may think."

"Perhaps you're right."

"I am, until we live in a very different world from this one." Richard said softly his words more for Isobel than Ethel.

Ethel pulled her coat around her, "Well, then. I should be away."

They watched as she made her way to the bus stop. The red coach arrived and Ethel Parks climbed aboard and left Downton.

As Isobel turned to go back inside Crawley House she felt something she hadn't felt since the war-outrage.

A mother should always be able to keep her child. She didn't bother to ring the bell to have Mrs. Bird or Molesley come to clear away the teacups. Hastily she began tossing the cups onto the tray. Richard went to help her and she surprised herself by batting his hands away. "I can manage thank you."

He sighed heavily, "I know you're upset."

Her head snapped up and her brown eyes seemed to burn, "I do know what type of world we live in Richard."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, while she might say that it was far from true. "What did you think would happen today? Honestly? Tell me, I want to know."

"We have choices." Isobel said as if she were lecturing an errant child and threw another cup onto the pile before looking back at him.

He kept his voice soft, "Ethel made choices, she _chose_ to get involved with Major Bryant, no one made her sleep with him. I think you're angry because the choice she made today was not one that _you_ would've made."

His words were like a slap to the face and she ducked her head. "Thank you for coming today Doctor Clarkson, now if you'll excuse me I have things to do."


	9. Chapter 9

Richard knew not to stay and argue with her, he didn't want her to do something too drastic in retaliation. He left Crawley house and made his way to the hospital. Isobel saw the porcelain mountain she had created on the tray and groaned. She briefly entertained the thought of picking up one of the china teacups and hurling it against a wall. Why was she angry?

Was it what Richard had said? Was it the fact that she had thought she was comparable to Ethel. With Reginald's death she was left to raise a child alone. Did she really think that made her situation with Ethel the same, that somehow Ethel could overcome all odds to keep her child? Jane the other maid at Downton had lost her husband and had to work to provide for her child however, she had the support of her mother. What did Ethel have?

The stack of teacups once again caught her attention, here at Crawley house she had servants, she had access to fine china. Isobel still did things for herself but this didn't make her one of the people. Today she had witnessed a woman's heartbreak over losing her child. While Charlie was alive it was little comfort to Ethel. She rang the bell and Molesley appeared, "Could you take this away for me please?"

Mr. Molesley had heard from Mrs. Bird the ongoings of the meeting with the Bryant's and shared her shock at having Ethel serve tea. He heard the bell and he popped in trying to seem indifferent, that melted away when he saw and heard the hitch in Mrs. Crawley's voice. "Of course." he replied before taking away the mess.

The door closed softly behind him and Isobel covered her face with her hands. When she was attacked the police had asked her who they should inform. Instantly she had thought of him and not Matthew. She had tried to rationalize her choice, that if Matthew had come to collect her she didn't want him lecturing her. However, that wasn't true, she had called for Richard for she knew that he would come for her because she asked. Also because he was the one she thought of frequently, more than she would care to admit. The world hadn't changed when that man had hit her, the world had been as it always was, what had changed was her. She now felt fear and doubt. None of her ideas seemed to be working, it was as if none of the puzzle pieces before her went together no matter how hard she jammed them. He knew, he had known all along.

_What was the first unwritten rule of medicine?_

"You can't save everyone." She muttered to no one in the empty room. That was something she had heard her entire life and she never believed it. To her everyone could be and should be saved. Today was the bitter truth that she had been wrong. Her shield was gone and now her core beliefs had been challenged most cruelly. No, she could save everyone she just had to think harder. She wasn't ready to confront all these new insights. Wanting to cloak herself in the familiar she reached for her coat and left her home.

Besides Ripon and Thirsk the red coach line also had another stop where an individual could board another transport for the York city center. Isobel did this and soon found herself back the women's shelter. There was no applause as she walked through nor did she expect there to be. She simply hung up her coat and began addressing the few women that were chit chatting around the donated sewing machines.

The lesson began, normally the nattering of the women didn't bother her. The shelter door opened and in walked a woman, she was no more than mere girl. "Have you come for our help, if you have then you're welcome."

The girl looked around in disbelief hardly daring to believe that anyone would help her.

"you should know that we help every woman who has come here to rebuild their lives." Isobel said before adding softly, "I'm helping them. And I very much hope that I can help you, too."

Unfortunately an older prostitute named Mavis decided to chime in, "That's right. Why not come in and help us rebuild our lives?"

At this all the other prostitutes laughed mercilessly and the young girl bolted for the door. Isobel ran after her but the girl was too swift. Outrage was rising in her again and she stormed back into the room, reaching down she snatched the fabric up from the first sewing machine she came across, "Where does it start? The simple stitch, the one we went over...over a week ago now!"

None of the women could answer her for they were too stunned. This was a side the prostitutes hadn't seen, Isobel Crawley seemed to possess supernatural patience when it came to dealing with them. Her raised voice had them actually looking at her, they saw the fading bruise and realized Isobel Crawley was human after all.

There was soft knock at his office door and Clarkson spoke, "Come."

The door swung open to reveal Matthew Crawley, Clarkson rose from his desk. "Dr. Clarkson, I was hoping you could help me."

Clarkson's eyes began assessing Matthew, "Is something ailing you?"

The blonde smiled, "Not physically, Mother is missing. I was supposed to pick her up for dinner and she's not at Crawley House. None of the servants know where she had gone either. Now knowing Mother she is probably fine and off doing something of _vast_ importance. I know that you and she are friends and I wondered if you knew where she was?"

Splaying his fingers Richard rested his hands on the top of his desk and quickly went through her options. With the incident this morning with the Bryant's he came up with one answer, "Most likely she is in York."

"York?" Matthew said a little stunned.

"She is working at a women's shelter." Clarkson informed.

"Oh that." Matthew said almost dismissively.

"Time must have gotten away from her." Richard said sagely.

Matthew seemed satisfied with explanation and left. After the young Crawley had gone Richard snatched up the telephone.

After Isobel's outburst some of the women were more keen to listen to instruction while a two simply got up and left. The sun had set and the staff were serving a meal, the prostitutes would eat and would either go to the dormitory to sleep or leave to go back to the street. This wasn't a locked facility, the women could leave at anytime if they wished. What pained Isobel was that so many did, only to come back the next day for a meal.

Isobel's feet was resting lightly on the treadle of the sewing machine. With the gentle movements she manipulated the needle up and down. A scrap of fabric caught her attention and she placed it underneath the needle. The needle was not threaded so as the needle moved it merely pierced the fabric over and over. How many piercings could it take? How many punctures before it would become damaged and tear?

Was the fabric her?

The door behind her whispered open and she found she didn't have the joviality to give a warm greeting. Nonetheless the person needed to be welcomed. Isobel began her stock greeting taking her time to turn around, "Have you come here for our help?"

When she eventually did see the individual she felt like crying, for Doctor Clarkson was in the doorway. He wasn't there for help, he was there to help her.


	10. Chapter 10

He could see so many emotions warring behind her eyes each one fighting for dominance. He held out his hand and turned it so the palm was up and extended it towards her. The offering of his hand had her moving towards him. She moved cautiously like an abused animal that was being offered piece of meat. Richard stood still waiting for her to complete her approach. A man's hands had been used to inflict pain, he was going to show her that a man's hands could be gentle and loving. As her fingers made contact with him he didn't pull, instead he allowed her to draw as near as she dared. Minutes passed before she looked up at him and he asked, "Where would you like me to take you?"

"Away from here." She murmured almost ashamed of her own request.

Together they walked to where her coat was hanging. His hand never left hers. Once her right arm was in he switched the hand he was holding so contact was never broken. Hand in hand they left the women's shelter. Mending a broken spirit was new territory for him. However, he knew you couldn't just throw a cast on a broken bone, the fracture had to be reduced first, the bones lined up so they would knit back together in the proper position. Isobel needed to be "reduced" to her most primal self so all her beliefs could be restored.

In the car he had to break contact so he could drive and Isobel understood. The drive to Downton passed in silence and Isobel was thankful she didn't have to talk. She let her thoughts drift and surprised the engine stopped. Richard had brought her to his cottage. Inside he handed her the telephone, "Ring the Abbey, leave a message for Matthew that you're sorry you forgot the dinner."

At his words Isobel's eyes widen in remembrance, she had forgotten about the dinner. She nodded dumbly at Richard before picking up the handset and being connected to the Abbey. Feeling like a robot Isobel clutched the telephone and repeated what Richard had told her.

Mrs. Hughes appeared at the doorway to dining room and motioned to Carson. The butler was the only one to catch the movement and he prided himself on his eyes still being keen. He left his position to hear the whisper of the Scottish housekeeper. Upon re-entering he addressed those dining, "Telephone message from Mrs. Crawley. Seems she lost track of time in York and forgot about dinner. She sends her apologies and her love."

Cousin Violet heard this and said, "No rest for the wicked."

Mary gave her grandmother a look, "Really granny, I rather doubt Cousin Isobel is wicked."

At the defense of his Mother Matthew beamed at his wife.

However, in the Doctor's Cottage Isobel did feel wicked, her judgment of Ethel was immoral. Behind her Richard's hands rested on her shoulders before he pushed off her jacket. "Do you trust me?"

She nodded and he shook his head, "I need to hear you say it."

She swallowed to unglue her tongue, "Yes I trust you."

"All right" With that he extended his hand again, when she took he led her to his bedroom. He lit a small lamp in the corner letting it provide a soft glow so they could see one another. He guided her hands to his neck while his own hands went to hers and she understood. They began removing each others clothes in unison. they kept pace with one another, never letting the other reveal more than the other. Once they were bared Richard went to the bed and pulled down the covers.

"Get in" he said with a smile. At first it was awkward, Isobel was on one side of the bed while Richard was on the other. "Come here." he said softly.

"I'm not sure how to go about this." She said hesitantly.

Reaching out Richard was able to ensnare her hand and pull her to him. She landed against him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, her left leg tangled around one of his and she was perfectly nestled against him. This was how her reduction would start, letting her become comfortable with touch. Richard yawned and then closed his eyes, his grip began to relax as slumber took him. Isobel found herself drifting off as well safe and warm with Richard beside her.

In the morning Richard made breakfast as they ate it together Isobel bounced an idea off of him. "What would you think if I asked Ethel to be a maid at Crawley House?"

Richard swallowed his groan by swallowing tea, "What I think is that you are so consumed with doing the right thing that you miss doing the smart thing."

Normally Isobel would bristle at a comment like this but she didn't. "She was a maid once she has the skills. If she were to work here for a few months she could get a good reference and then enter into the workforce."

Richard sighed before saying, "I agree that is an avenue but I don't think you have contemplated all of the consequences."

At this Isobel did bristle, "We would be giving a woman a chance at a life!"

He put his hands up and instantly Isobel deflated, her eyes exuding apology.

"Close your eyes" He waited until she did so, "Think back to the day Ethel and Bryant's were here." When her face tightened he continued, "I want you to remember Mrs. Bird, what did she do? How did she look?" When Isobel exhaled he knew she had the image in her head. "Now, imagine that look on the face of shopkeepers, Cousin Violet, Lord Grantham and your son."


	11. Chapter 11

In her mind's eye Isobel could see the look on her sons face. Nonetheless, she thought her teachings would allow Matthew to see her point. When she opened her eyes she saw Richard and nodded at him. Richard didn't want her to completely abandon her all that she held true for those were qualities that he loved. He merely wanted her to try and see another's point. She had great sympathy, it while her empathy was still above most who dwelled at Downton Abbey hers still needed to be developed.

Rising from the table he strode over to her, his left hand tilted her chin up before leaning down to taste her lips. Their first kiss had been flavored by tobacco and tar. This kiss tasted of tea and toast. Isobel anchored her hand behind his head and deepened the kiss. Richard moaned into her mouth at the feel of her tongue against his. Now he could taste her. He moaned again and pulled away, she was breathing hard and her lips swollen from his kisses. She emitted a small whimper at his withdrawal and he had to remind himself that things could not be rushed. There were still steps in the reduction to follow otherwise the break would never heal.

"I have to go" he said in a rush.

"I know, I have some thinking to do...smart thinking." She added with a smirk.

Diving in again he stole one more kiss before he gathered his things, Isobel rose and met him at the door and both left the cottage.

As Isobel walked through the streets she conjured the most nasty things that could happen if she were the hire Ethel. The images formed but would not stay in her mind. Her mind kept returning to the good her idea would bring. Ethel could gain security with a reference. _Think smart_ her mind rallied.

Mrs. Hughes, she had instrumental in finding Ethel. She was also a housekeeper and had an army of maids under her. She was the woman in the know so she was the woman to see. Isobel clamped her lips together to stop from smiling. She must not get ahead of herself, she hadn't even spoken to Mrs. Hughes yet. There could be a blacklist of sorts amongst maids or some other block preventing employment.

First things first, she would need to bathe and change. While she didn't mind smelling of Richard it would certainly cause a stir with others. Isobel would need to ration out what she decided to stun the village with. Crawley House was quiet, her bath passed in silence. Before leaving she clipped some roses from the garden and wrapped them in some paper. As she approached Downton Abbey she thought of Matthew, with his marriage to Mary her son was now living here. Ethel's words came to haunt her.

_Yeah, I suppose Mr. Crawley went to a famous school and university._

Her words were true and now he was living in a famous home. An heir to an estate-a prince in a castle.

Bypassing the front entrance she once again went to the servants entrance. O'Brien and Barrow were smoking outside and scrambled when they saw her.

Isobel wasn't blind and knew of the scheming nature of the two.

"Can we help you Mrs. Crawley?" Barrow asked.

Isobel raised her hands to more prominently display the bouquet, "Mrs. Hughes helped me sometime ago and I wanted to thank her."

O'Brien stepped forward her intent clear to take the flowers. Isobel merely pulled them to her chest, "I wanted to give them to her personally to thank her."

Knowing she was beaten O'brien stepped back, Barrow went to the servants entrance and opened the door for her. As Isobel passed through the door she ignored the stares boring into the back of her head. The door to Mrs. Hughes' sitting room was open and Isobel peered inside. Luck was on her side for Mrs. Hughes was there as was Mrs. Patmore. The cook saw her first, "Mrs. Crawley as I live and breathe what are you doing here?"

Isobel grinned, she enjoyed the openness of the cook there were never any surprises with her. Again Isobel held out the bouquet and told them why she was there. Mrs. Patmore stood up to excuse herself leaving Mrs. Crawley and Mrs. Hughes alone.

The housekeeper retrieved a vase from a cupboard and placed the flowers in them, "these are lovely."

Isobel clasped her hands in her lap not wanting to reveal how nervous she was, "It was the least I could do for your help with Ethel."

At the name Mrs. Hughes seemed to sag. "I heard she gave her child to the Bryant's"

"Yes, it was one of the most painful yet endearing things I have ever seen. It is because of her that I am here today." Isobel said slowly gaining courage. "She won't go back to prostitution, she was once a maid. I was thinking about giving her a position at Crawley House and I wanted your input."

Elsie Hughes was flabbergasted, generally her opinion was only sought over what to serve for dinner. True she had to mediate dispute amongst the staff but this was different. Her hand rose to rub her forehead. Mrs. Crawley was well within her right to take on whoever she wished. If she did hire a former prostitute rumor and scandal would take hold and the effects would travel to the Abbey. Elsie could see the determination in Mrs. Crawley and the fact was she was not going to let Ethel Parks disappear. "Give me some time to see what I can do."

Isobel's head was pillowed on Richard's chest listening to his heart, the steady thump thump thump was a comfort. She had just told him of her meeting with Mrs. Hughes and he had listened with rapt attention. This was the second night she spent here with him like this she was glad to be without her shield, without her armor. His hand was currently gliding up and down her back in counterpoint to his heartbeat. Their intimacy was broken by the shrill tone of the telephone. Lord Grantham had had one installed in the cottage. Grunting he sat up and went to answer it not bothering to put clothes on. Isobel felt momentary panic but then remembered he was answering the phone not opening a door.

When he came back she knew he would have to leave. She moved to sit up and he pushed her back down by kissing her mouth. It was the first time he had kissed her anywhere near his bed and she flushed warmly. His hand brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, "Stay there, stay warm. Wait for me."

The gentle cadence of his words had her sinking back into the mattress. He pulled up the comforter and tucked it around her body to secure in the heat. He dressed quickly and headed for where he was needed.


	12. Chapter 12

It was still dark when Richard returned to the cottage. Isobel was where he had left her, nude and bundled up in his down comforter. Silently he shucked off his clothes and joined her back in bed. Her body was warm and he wrapped his arms around her letting her heat seep into him. He nuzzled into the back of her neck and she hummed in her sleep. He was glad that she hadn't woken, he needed her to be comfortable here. She needed to be comfortable in her own skin around him, this bed needed to become as familiar as a favorite pair of gloves. When they would eventually make love he wanted her to be immersed in the experience instead of wondering, "Is my body too old? Will he like this? This bed sags here."

He too was learning where she enjoyed his touch and where she didn't. Her stomach was an area she didn't like his hands being anywhere near so he kept them away. This too was part of her reduction, after their combined lengths of celibacy jumping into the bed could be a shocking experience. He didn't want her to have another unpleasurable experience by the hands of a man. The thought of what Isobel had gone through and pulled her closer to him.

The physical form had always appealed to Richard. Being a doctor he knew about bodies, how the heart pumped blood, the direction of its travel. How nerves transmitted pain as well as pleasure. In his work he rarely saw the body in top condition. Most of his calls were to treat illness, set a bone or on rare occasions an amputation. Having Isobel free of sickness and pain in his arms was a gift. There was still a few hours before he would have to be up again and he let himself drift back to sleep.

In the morning Richard made breakfast while Isobel made the bed. Isobel would be going into York today. There was work to be done at the women's shelter and Isobel wanted to see Ethel. She told Richard of her plan, "You'll be going alone?"

"No, I'm taking Mavis with me." She tapped her temple, "Thinking smart you see." Mavis owed her for the rude comment she made which drove off the young prostitute that had come into the shelter the other day. Mavis was one on the older prostitutes, she had been through much. She was one who used the shelter as bed and breakfast when it suited her. Nevertheless, she had brought in others that she knew would never be suited to the life. Mavis was a rogue, she had no pimp, and even at her age she got clients.

At that moment he wanted her, she was sitting prim and proper on a freshly made bed and he wanted her. Wanted her beneath him, above him, anyway she wished. Would she talk, a line of poetry or would she emit sounds primal and guttural? God he wanted to know. Isobel could see the flush of his cheek, her eyes wandered down and saw the evidence of his arousal.

"What are you thinking of?" She asked knowing full well what was on his mind.

"You and me being in that bed, wrapped around one another. No space between us at all." He moved closer to her and Isobel could feel her heartbeat increase. "Hands everywhere" He moved even closer. Isobel hadn't thought it possible but his voice had become deeper, "Mouths everywhere."

Isobel's head rolled back and she mewled, his words affecting her just as deeply. How long had it had been since she had felt a rush like this? Richard wanted her and not just as a companion but he wanted her. It had been a very long time since her body had been coveted. She launched herself at him and her mouth touched his. Her enthusiasm was intoxicating, she was truly lost in the kiss. Richard was beginning to lose himself as well. His left hand came up to cup her breast through her jacket and Isobel shifted forward essentially leaning into this touch. Emboldened his other hand rose up as well lavishing the same attention on her other breast. Isobel's arms wound around him, pulling him close. Needing oxygen Richard tore his mouth away. Isobel's eyes had darkened in arousal and her face was a healthy shade of pink. Vasocongestion his mind supplied and he barked at it for to be quiet. Both leaned back into to taste one another when the phone rang. At first both looked at each other in confusion until Richard rolled his eyes. The fact he was doing this at an inanimate object and not her had her laughing. He exhaled sharply and snatched up the telephone. Isobel could hear his clipped tones, no doubt whoever had rang would be getting an earful.

He was still on the telephone when she gathered her things, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. The faces he was making while listening to whoever was on the other end of the line were so animated. His knuckles were white as he throttled the phone. Isobel's hand reached out and touched his shoulder to let him know she was leaving. He jerked his chin up to her in acknowledgment and gave a brief smile before turning his attention back to the telephone.

Isobel rode the Red Coach before switching at another station for transport into York. At the shelter Mavis was there along with some others. Today would be a cooking lesson instead of sewing, most of the women seemed more keen to work with food at the prospect of eating it. All except for Mavis, Isobel went up to her, "Going to give it a go?"

"Don't feel like it." She spat.

It was then that Isobel noticed, for today's lesson the recipe had been written on a card and each woman had one. The epiphany was so clear! Mavis couldn't read, she could sew since that was more hands on. Anything that was demonstrated she could do, this was something that wasn't going to be demonstrated.

Isobel had wanted to wait until later to have Mavis escort her through York. With this new development they would go now. "Grab your coat, we're going out."

For once Mavis didn't protest, she simply followed Isobel through the streets. Mavis knew the street names, whether that was from memorization Isobel didn't know. What she did know with certainty was that mavis was a functional illiterate. She could work with money, recognize a few words and write her name. Perhaps more lessons needed to be taught at the shelter. Isobel saw the looks she was getting, being escorted by Mavis meant she was left alone by the other prostitutes and punters. The other people on the street would either change direction when they saw them or scoff or pass sordid comments. Hearing the things that they lobbed at Mavis made her think of what would people in Downton say about Ethel?

The housing block loomed, Isobel remembered which door was Ethel's and knocked. There was no man rushing out this time and she was not as haggard in her appearance. Mavis went to the corner not wanting scoping out the block. WHile she did so Isobel quickly told Ethel that she was trying to find her employment as a housemaid. Ethel's face showed genuine surprise. "You will work, even if you work for me you will gain employment and with it a reference."

Ethel's face had turned hard at Isobel's words, "I'm grateful what you have done and are continuing to do. But you better think long and hard about having me at your house. Thank you for coming but I have to go."

Isobel's mouth opened in shock and Ethel quickly added, "I'm scrubbing some floors on the west side this evening...I meant what I said, I'm not going back to that life."

Isobel nodded hastily before moving away. Ethel stuck her head out of the door and looked both ways before spying Mavis, "Oi, you old slag! Make sure that one isn't bothered."

If anyother person had called Mavis a slag she would have given them more than they bargained for. However, with Ethel it was different. She had been a slag herself, the term when used between them was almost affectionate. With that Mavis and Isobel returned to the women's shelter.


	13. Chapter 13

Richard was becoming a victim of his own success, the way Isobel had responded to him this morning was proof that she wanted him too. Her kisses had been open, honest and passionate. There had always been an attraction to one another since they had first met. At the hospital he found everything he looked at reminded him of her. Somehow every object could connect to a memory involving her, at the medicine cabinet he thought of adrenaline which made him think of her. The fountain pen she had gifted him for Christmas one year. Even the goddamned bed sheets on the cots in the ward! He shook his head as if to clear it, he had to deal with main distributions today. That had been the telephone communication that he had snarled through this morning.

Hopefully it would provide enough of a distraction so he thoughts wouldn't stray to Isobel Crawley.

The day progressed and soon the sun was setting, he grabbed his coat and hat and went to the square. The red coach would be arriving soon. Others were waiting as well, for this would be the last transport into Downton for the day. A few acknowledge him with a small greeting but that was it no small talk. The engine was heard before the coach was seen and the group waiting began to form a line. The coach came into view and then slowed to halt. The doors opened and people began disembarking. A swish of skirt caught Richard's attention and he held out his hand for Isobel to take. She grasped it firmly and guided down off of the bus. When she was on terra firma she didn't let go and Richard felt warmth pool in his belly. This was it, tonight they would become lovers.

Hand in hand they walked through the village toward the cottage. Isobel welcomed the night air against her skin, for her clothes felt too warm. Inside the cottage they instantly went to the bedroom, facing one another and removing each other clothes. The nights that they had done this had prepared them for his. Fingers effortlessly popped open buttons and hooks. Ever since that morning both had carried the lingering effects of arousal all that day. When the last piece of clothing was removing Richard held out his hand palm up and extended it Isobel. She took it and began walking backwards pulling Richard along. The backs of her knees hit the bed, it had been so long. His mouth was nibbling along her neck and her own hands stroked down his back to anchor at his waist and pull him flush against her. She could feel him hard and insistent against her stomach. At the contact his mouth broke contact and he hissed.

"God, Isobel" he moaned.

She could see the effect she had on him and felt a heady rush of power. One of her hands left his back to touch his chest and then run down the midline until she encircled him. He grunted at her touch, she kept her pressure light and asked, "Tell me again."

He struggled to make his vocal cords work but he managed somehow, "You... me that bed, wrapped 'round one another." She stroked him again and his breath left his lungs in a rush. Isobel leaned forward whispering, "No space between us at all."

His mouth claimed hers and there was no more speaking, his hands began fulfilling the promise he had uttered earlier by wandering up the inside of her thigh. It was her turn to breath out harshly, his fingers touched her and she felt lightheaded. Allowing herself to fall backward she let the bed catch her. Nimbly he scrambled up after her. Arms and legs tangled together leaving no space between them. Richard's hands moved down again making sure his touch was gentle the final process of her reduction began.

Isobel hummed in contentment at feeling him fill her, the bones were set it was time for them to knit together. She kissed his lips before she moved her lips over his neck all the while he moved. Isobel's only thoughts were _more_ and _now_. Richard thought he could almost hear her inside his head and did everything he could to grant her requests.

Hands were _everywhere_.

Mouths were _everywhere_

And on the small bed two human beings gave themselves over to pleasure.

The Abbey loomed and Richard approached it, he was going to assess his first patient of the day. His shoulder ached and he smiled in remembrance at the reason why. There had been no interruptions last night, no telephone calls, no banging on his door. Just the night shielding them as they made love. Richard closed his eyes and willed his body not to respond, he didn't need or want to embarrass himself at this moment.

He took a measured breath before ringing the bell. Carson, ushered him in and he climbed the stairs to Lady Sybil's room. She was nearing the end of her pregnancy. Lord and Lady Grantham had hired a private nurse to help care for Sybil. Upon entering the nurse handed him her notes which he reviewed. He then took her vital statistics before asking, "how are you?"

"Tired" she answered and Richard knew there was more than just tiredness going on.

"How are you?" He asked again his tone brokered no argument.

Her face crumpled, "Oh Dr. Clarkson, I feel as if everyone is waiting for _me_ to do something. As if I have some control over this life inside me. I almost wish I would just stay pregnant."

"Why do you say that?" He asked softly.

"Tom wants the baby to baptized Catholic and I agree. However, we're in England not Ireland. I want to support my husband yet we are here with my family and it's just petty. I thought we were done with this when we married."

Richard nodded, he knew exactly what the this was that she was referring to. The class system, England's last hold on feudalism. Richard leaned in close like a conspirator and told her, "You can always talk to me."

Sybil smiled wide, "You should know Papa wanted to hire some ghastly obstetrician, I told him no, in fact we all did. I won't let anyone but you treat me and my child."

Watching the doctors face transform into a genuine smile pleased Sybil. It helped that Matthew, Mary, Edith, Mama and her husband were united behind her decision.

_"We could hire Sir Phillip Tapsell, he could stay here and oversee the birth." Lord Grantham had said one night at dinner._

_Cora looked puzzled, "Why not have doctor Clarkson? Is his our doctor and I believe he delivered Sybil himself."_

_"Yes, papa he knows us." Edith echoed._

_Lord Grantham sighed and softly threw down his napkin onto the dining table, "Yes and he was wrong about Matthew."_

_At this Matthew opened his mouth in shock before saying, "He had a good reason for that and I don't begrudge him. Even Mother agreed with him. How long did it take for my swelling to go down?"_

_Playing his ace as it were Lord Robert eyed his son-in-law, "Matthew, what about Lavinia?"_

_Both Cora and Mary opened their mouths in shock, Mary turned to Matthew. They both knew the contributing factor in the death of Miss Swire but knew they couldn't reveal it. Even Carson was surprised at his Lordship's words. Mary then turned to her Mother and both talking over one another._

_"Papa, that's not fair-"_

_"Robert, Spanish Flu changes on a dime."_

_Sybil had been sitting quietly at the table, while the babe inside her kicked in protest at all the noise. She clutched at Tom her eyes begging with him to help._

_"Begging your pardon, but Sybil and I want Doctor Clarkson for the birth of our child, if you forbid him to come here. We'll stay at the Pub." Tom delivered and everyone knew he meant it._

Carson showed Dr. Clarkson to the door while below stairs unbeknownst to both of them Isobel Crawley was once again in Mrs. Hughes sitting room having gone through the servants entrance. The housekeeper had written to her contacts in other cities about positions for a housemaid. She was fairly certain that position could be obtained for Ethel. While Mrs. Hughes still wouldn't provide a reference for her, Ethel's previous letters of reference were still good. All Ethel needed to do was omit that she had ever worked at Downton Abbey. In one of the the other cities no one would ever know. The War could be given as an excuse of why there was a lapse in employment. Isobel dared to hope, this might work!

Isobel was warm, smooth skin pillowed her cheek. Her body felt weightless and she floated happily along enjoying the haze after making love. The phone rang and she turned her face into Richard's skin mumbling, "Oh, don't answer it!" He chuckled before groaning and she moved away so he could get up. Isobel watched with delight as his nude form went to answer the telephone. It was Downton Abbey on the line, Sybil Branson was experiencing pain, perhaps it was time. He dressed and wet his hands before running them hastily through his hair. When he deemed himself presentable he kissed Isobel before tucking the comforter around her. "Stay there, stay warm. Wait for me." Isobel heard his words and knew he wasn't just asking for just tonight.

When he arrived he was surrounded by women who all had or who once had the surname of Crawley. He inwardly chuckled that he too had a Crawley woman as his own. Sybil's sisters and her mother hovered near the foot of the bed. He came to Sybil, she looked at him with anticipation. He smiled reassuringly as he withdrew his stethoscope and sphygmomanometer, the cuff was applied so he could take her blood pressure. As the cuff was inflated he noted that she had been sweating He also could see that she was not shifting restlessly a sign that she was not actively contracting. Most likely it was case of Braxton Hicks contractions.

Sybil knew to be still during this,or the readings might be skewed. He removed the ear tips of his stethoscope letting the headset hang around his neck. He whispered to Sybil to ask about her contractions and she answered him in the same volume not wanting her mother or sisters to overhear. She then leaned in closer, "my pressure is high isn't it?"

Clarkson was stuffing his blood pressure cuff back into his bag, "higher than your normal, yes. Everything else about you is fine. I'll come back in the morning and check you again."

He then stood and addressed the other occupants of the room, "The pains have stopped. Nothing will happen yet." He told all the women watching as their shoulders sagged in relief and disappointment. As he left the room Cora asked what she could do to ease Sybil's nausea. For the past two days food had been coming up as fast as it had been going down and she was embarrassed about vomiting around others. "Bland foods, and those that are easy to digest will be less harsh on the stomach."

"Oh that's simple and I know what she likes." Lady Cora said happily.

Matthew, Tom and Lord Grantham were milling about on the landing, "Everything is fine, I'll be back in the morning." He called to them. Again he saw the same mixture of relief and disappointment. When Lord Grantham expressed his disgust at Clarkson's terminology Cora intervened and asked, "The question is can we call go back to bed."

"You can, and so can I." He said with a small smile what they didn't know was that his bed had Isobel Crawley warm and nude waiting for him.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not a mind reader, please let me know what you liked and what you didn't.**


	14. Chapter 14

His cottage was dark and quiet as came back to it. He could hear the steady breathing of Isobel letting him know she was asleep. Just hours ago they had made love for a second time.

As he removed his clothes he let his mind wander.

_A kiss to his throat and he moaned in response. "Clothes" she whispered and in his passion filled brain he was confused. All his clothes were on the floor._

_"Clothes?" He echoed as his hand wandered down her back over her rump to pull her against him._

_"Can I *moan* bring my clothes here?" She half gasped half spoke._

_It took a moment for her words to form some semblance of order in his brain before he kissed her lips quickly before affirming, "Of course you bloody can." He then began attacking her neck. After that there were no more words._

As he got into bed he noticed that the sheets carried her scent, he was suddenly glad that she had asked about bringing her clothes here for he knew that he couldn't live without her. Even if he knew she was just up the road at Crawley House that wouldn't be enough.

Will you be going to York today? He asked as he hastily drank a cup of tea.

Isobel was clearing away bits of toast, "No, I want to utilize my other skills. May I be with you at the hospital?"

The feeling of elation swept over him for somehow he knew she wasn't just asking about the hospital.

Sybil's blood pressure had not resolved after a night of sleep. Tom was holding her hand and Richard noticed that her wedding band was absent, last night he had seen it. On a hunch he asked permission before drawing done the coverlet on the bed to examine Sybil's feet. The swelling was prominent, while swollen feet were sometimes commonplace in pregnancy she had not been on her feet for sometime. Alarm bells were beginning to sound in Richard's mind. He reviewed the nurses notes, so far she hadn't urinated yet.

"I'd like it if you came to the hospital, can we arrange a car?" He asked softly making sure his voice exuded calm.

Tom's voice was sharp, "What's wrong?"

Luckily Lady Cora was there, "Tom let's let Doctor Clarkson explain."

"My pressure?" Sybil asked tiredly.

Richard had a soft spot for this particular daughter of Lord Grantham, the way she had fought for Downton Abbey to be a convalescent home had endeared her to him. "Yes, your blood pressure has not resolved. Your hands and feet are also swollen. I would like to test your albumin levels, I would like it if you went to the hospital."

Sybil nodded and Lady Cora pulled the call bell in the corner. Downstairs, Carson had ordered that only women were permitted to answer calls from Lady Sybil's room. While maids were currently occupied in cleaning rooms, Mrs. Hughes climbed the stairs and appeared.

"Mrs. Hughes, we need a car to take us the hospital." Cora said and augmented her statement by waving at everyone in the room.

"Right away my lady." Mrs. Hughes delivered as she rushed out to comply with the order.

Seeing that her son-in-law needed an occupation she asked, "Tom, why don't you pack a few things for Sybil."

This order snapped him out of his daze and he began pulling items from a wardrobe. Cora then motioned to Clarkson and he moved to join her, "Is she in danger?"

"She is showing signs of eclampsia, toxemia if you will. I want to test her urine at the hospital and if it confirms my suspicions we must get the baby delivered. She's obviously exhausted, as you well know labour is trying." His words had Cora nodding her head.

"What will happen next if the test shows what you think?" Cora asked heistantly

Richard swallowed, "I will perform a caesarian section to deliver the baby."

Cora's mind was reeling, "Couldn't she still deliver?"

"Her labor hasn't established itself into a pattern yet. If she does indeed have eclampsia the trauma of natural birth will cause seizures and she will not survive." He said in a low tone.

Cora's hands flew to her mouth, she knew that surgery had its risks but if what Clarkson was telling was true then by not performing surgery Sybil could face danger. Not wanting to waste time Cora went to her daughter's bedside and helped her sit up, Sybil groaned in protest and Cora soothed her. "All right my baby, we're just going for a little ride." Cora's eyes met Dr. Clarkson's, "Let's go."

It was somewhat of a circus getting Sybil downstairs. Each member of the household was talking over one another of what action they thought best. In the end, Sybil broke free of her Mother and gripped the banister rail on her own, making her way downstairs. Clarkson allowed her this brief protest before he came to her side and indicated to Tom with his head that he should join him. Out of instinct Tom moved to the driver's seat before Clarkson's hand on his shoulder guided him to the cab portion.

At the hospital Clarkson obtained a urine sample from Sybil while Isobel helped her change into a gown. The urine was boiled and cooled and Richard's suspicions were confirmed, the urine was forming clumps, Sybil Branson had eclampsia.

Dr. Clarkson stood in the doorway to the room where Sybil and Isobel were. Somehow sensing his presence Isobel turned and he nodded slowly. Isobel understood and began preparing Sybil.

Tom and Lady Cora were cloistered in Clarkson's office he came in to tell them news. "Lady Sybil needs to be delivered of her child immediately. We are preparing things here for a cesarean."

Tom blanched as did Cora but somehow he found his voice, "This is something that you've done?"

"Yes, and I have kept up on the latest techniques." Clarkson said with authority

Tom's Irish accent was thick as tears threatened, "but there's a danger?"

Clarkson believed in truth, "Yes, with surgery there is always danger. However, I can guarantee you that if we don't do this you will lose Sybil perhaps even your child."

"When will you start?" Cora inquired.

Doctor Clarkson moved closer to the seated pair, "When everything is ready, from the nurses notes she hasn't eaten or drunk anything so we don't have to wait."

Tom's head was bouncing in agreement, "Yeah, her stomach has been upset."

Cora watched as Clarkson's hand pointed to a corner, "you can use the telephone if you wish. I would just like to remind you that I do have other patients."

Cora understood his silent request, she would not have the Crawley's swamping the hospital.

Sybil was taken to an operating theatre. Clarkson was true to his word and he had been reading up on techniques. He would be using a Pfannenstiel incision to gain entry to Sybil's uterus. The anesthesia was administered, Clarkson called for a scalpel and Isobel handed him the instrument. The incision began, it was time to meet the newest member of the family. While Richard was suturing everything back up, Isobel was cleaning the newborn. She was small, another sign that Sybil's pregnancy was not progressing.

Sybil had tolerated surgery, she had had some blood loss which hopefully with rest she would recover.

The look on Tom's face as he was presented with his daughter was a look that Isobel would cherish. Lady Cora too was overwhelmed, before her eyes snapped up to Isobel's "Sybil!"

"She's well, we've taken her to the recovery room. Would you like to see her?" Isobel asked.

Cora nodded as did Tom, Isobel led them to where Sybil was sleeping off the anesthesia. As they walked into the room they stopped for Dr. Clarkson was there. "Not to worry, just taking her blood pressure."

As Clarkson went to exit as the others came in he regarded the bundle in Tom's arms, "A vision that one."

What the doctor said struck a chord with Tom and he had an idea for a name, he would just have to ask Sybil.

* * *

**A/N: AU in all respects and no disrespect to Sir Julian**


	15. Chapter 15

Cora and Tom sat with Sybil, she was still under the effects of anesthesia. At intervals Dr. Clarkson would come in to take her vital signs. On one visit he came in with a syringe and gave her a dose of morphine so her waking would be pain free.

When she woke she was highly disoriented. Tom held her hand and Clarkson ordered, "Talk to her."

"You're all right love" he chanted over and over.

Clarkson took pity on the irishman, "No, _talk_ to her."

"Sybil my darling, we have a girl. We made a girl." He said more firmly.

The fog was slowly leaving Sybil's mind, "A girl?"

"Yes" Tom confirmed.

"I want to sit up" She said weakly.

Richard called for Isobel and between the two of them got her into a inclined position. Richard was intent on keeping Sybil here for at least a week perhaps more to make sure she healed properly. Tom handed her their child, for a few precious minutes Sybil held her daughter before she grimaced. Isobel took the baby while the doctor gave her another dose of morphine, "Rest now."

With the new mother and child in good care Cora went to the telephone and was connected to downton abbey. The whole of the abbey was buzzing with excitement. A girl!

Not all the news in the coming days was as joyous as the birth of the young Branson. Mrs. Hughes had received responses to her letters and none of them offered a position. Many of the households were had "downsized" after the war. Estates were dying and the need for servants was dwindling. Isobel was heartbroken over this, nevertheless she knew what she must do. That night as she was pillowed safely on Richard's skin she told him, "There aren't any spots for Ethel that Mrs. Hughes could find. You know what I must do."

He held her close, "Yes I do."

She could feel his tension, "You don't approve?"

He sighed through his nose, "That's not it, you tried I know you tried. I also know that Ethel saved you from a fate that I don't want to think about. I also know you won't lie and just write a reference, she must work for you. I'm just sulking that this will be one of the last times I get to hold you like this."

Isobel felt cold despite being warm from his touch, "What?"

Richard turned on his side so he could look at Isobel, "When you take on Ethel you must be at Crawley House to supervise her."

Isobel began to protest and he silenced her with a finger, "I know she wouldn't steal anything or do anything untoward but the village doesn't know that. Here Ethel is whore who is now working for the Mother of future Earl of Grantham. Tongues will wag, is Ethel running a brothel out of your home? You have to stay there."

She could see the truth of his words, it was one of the ugly things he had asked her think about. She didn't want to think of ugly things. She captured his lips with her own and he pushed her onto her back before covering her with his own body. Wrapping her legs around his waist she squeezed tightly urging him to take her. She wanted to feel him, she wanted the feeling of him to be with her for days. He granted her wish and rolled his hips with measured force and she moaned in pleasure. Richard loved seeing her like this and he stared at her face wanting to burn it into his memory. The desperation in their touches made each caress each kiss achingly tender. She whispered his name lovingly and he drank it in.

In the morning before Isobel made the journey to York she and Richard ate breakfast together. The mood was gloomy as if both of them were about to attend a funeral. As both headed to the door to leave Richard kissed her tenderly, "I told you once, 'we sink or swim together' keep swimming." Isobel journeyed to York and found Ethel she told her to pack her things, she was leaving. Ethel was thankful to leave but also hesitant. It was the final days of her occupancy here and she didn't have enough money for next month's rent. She didn't want Mrs. Crawley to suffer, it seemed that was all Ethel was good for-bringing suffering.

At Crawley House Ethel put on her livery and began her duties. The first hour was uneventful until Mrs. Crawley asked for tea and Ethel went to tell Mrs. Bird. The elder cook's disgust was evident in her face. Ethel stood still as the older woman brushed past her. In the drawing room Isobel heard heavy footfalls and turned towards the door just in time for Mrs. Bird to burst through.

"If she works here, I won't. I shall not have my good name soiled by the likes of her." She spat defiance burning in her eyes.

Isobel swallowed, she had known Mrs. Bird a long time. When she and Matthew had first come to Downton Mrs. Bird had come along as well. The one familiar face amongst strangers. She didn't want to lose her but Ethel _needed_ this. Mrs. Bird could find other work however, without her help Ethel might possibly starve to death. "I accept your resignation and you will have an additional month's pay."

Mrs. Bird's eyes went wide, she had thought there would be no way that Mrs. Crawley would side with Ethel. She turned on her heel and left the drawing room. The next day Mrs. Bird left on the first coach to Manchester.

At Downton Abbey the pettiness that Sybil had told Dr. Clarkson about was beginning to seep back into its walls. Lord Grantham made a remark about calling for Reverend Travis.

"We'll need to talk with him, I can still remember the day he baptized you and your sisters" He had casually remarked to Sybil one evening over dinner.

Nothing was said in response only the clinking of silverware was heard as Sybil looked at her husband with eyes that pleaded for him to understand. Tom and Sybil had chosen the name Radha Sybil Branson for their daughter. The obviously Irish name seemed to remind everyone of the fact that Lady Sybil had married down. The issue of the child's faith would be another reminder. Tom did not like Reverend Travis and it wasn't because he was a protestant. The man's demeanor was not in keeping with a holy man. He had heard the whispers from the servants of how he almost refused to marry Daisy and William. If Tom had his way that reverend who had a hatchet for face wouldn't get anywhere near his daughter. Tom prayed for a miracle to intervene on his behalf, it came in the form of a piece of paper written by Mrs. Bird to one Joseph Molesley.


	16. Chapter 16

With Molesley attending to Matthew Crawley at the abbey he didn't open his letter straight away. He merely pocketed it, when Mr. Crawley had left with his wife on an outing and the brushing of clothes was over he went to the servants hall. Anna was sewing at table and he acknowledged her before sitting down and withdrawing the envelope from his pocket. He flipped over the envelope and slid his thumb under the flap to break the seal. He pulled out the muted cream paper and read the contents.

_Dear Mr. Molesley,_

_I find it necessary to write to you. I have left Crawley House and will be staying with my sister in Manchester until I can find employment. Mrs. Crawley did not dismiss I left on my own accord. Mrs. Crawley has taken it upon herself to hire Ethel Parks. If the name sounds familiar she is the former housemaid from Downton Abbey who bore an illegitimate child and supported herself by being a prostitute. I have lived my life on principles that I can not turn my back on. Do you remember when we fed the soldiers? I can not in good conscious work in a home where it may destroy any chance for further employment or where my values are tarnished. I do wish you happiness and future blessings in your life. You were a good friend to me._

_ Sincerely,_

_ May Bird_

As soon as finished the letter he read it again before bolting upright. His sudden movement moved his seat across the floor with a grating sound. Anna gasped before asking, "Everything all right Mr. Molesley? Is it bad news?"

Anna watched as Molesley opened his mouth before closing it, looking remarkably like a fish. He said nothing and dashed straight to Mr. Carson and handed him the letter. The butler was about to give Molesley a lesson on etiquette when she saw the paper clutched in the man's hand. Without needing to ask permission he simply took the paper from Molesley and read it before his own eyes widened in shock, "Mrs Crawley has hired a prostitute to manage her house." He nearly shouted in disbelief.

"That's why Mrs Bird felt she had no choice but to hand in her notice." Echoed Molesley wanting Mr. Carson to know he had no prior knowledge of these events.

"Nor did she, poor woman." Carson declared blowing out a breath, he then dismissed Molesely with a nod and the man scurried away. Mr. Carson then went in search of Mrs. Hughes he found her in her sitting room with Mrs. Patmore. The cook could see there was business to be had between the two. She merely rose from her chair and began shouting to Daisy. Carson shut the door and hissed to Mrs. Hughes, "We have a serious problem."

To her knowledged there were no problems. The staff were behaving, no one was threatening to leave and there were no secret armours between any maids that she knew of and hopefully the money situation of his Lordship had been resolved. She shook her head in not having a clue as to what he was on about.

"Mrs. Crawley has hired Ethel Parks as housemaid" Carson informed.

Mrs. Hughes had been dreading this, she had hoped that this was one possibility that would not come to fruition. "Mr Carson, this is Ethel we're talking about." When his face was unchanging she put more emphasis on her words, "_Our_ Ethel!"

Carson scoffed and mocked, "And Mrs Crawley was just trying to give her a helping hand."

His words stung, the burn was more intense since she too had thought like this. "Is that so wrong?"

Carson softened, "I do not criticise Mrs. Crawley for her charity, but she hasn't considered her actions.

No respectable person...certainly, no respectable woman - can now be seen entering her house."

Elsie was becoming frustrated, "But Ethel's given all that up."

"I didn't think she was running a brothel in Mrs Crawley's kitchen." He said sarcastically but Elsie knew that his words would be the first thoughts of everyone in the village. Ethel would suffer and with her so would Mrs. Crawley. She sighed as she remembered the bruised face the woman who had only ever tried to help.

"Can't we say nothing for now? Mrs Bird's gone, and I don't remember Ethel as any great cook, so it may sort itself out." Or at least until I can find another placement her mind supplied.

Mrs. Hughes had played her trump card at the right time and Carson sighed, "Very well. Let's keep this to ourselves."

Elsie nodded at him before patting his arm. She went to leave and he covered her hand with his own, "But I don't want the maids going into that house on any pretext whatsoever. Is that clear?"

"Quite clear, Mr Carson." She answered and he released her.

As Mrs. Hughes walked towards the kitchen she heard Carson's voice behind her, "Or the footmen!" At his words she chuckled slightly she highly doubted that Alfred would like to hook his leg over Ethel! Her chuckle died, how were they going to stop anyone from going into Crawley House? With Mrs. Bird gone and Molesley here it was Ethel's responsibility to do the shopping, she would be seen in the village. She had tried, her fingers had nearly bled with the enquiries she dispatched. No one she knew was in the need for a housemaid.

At Crawley House Isobel was already feeling the effects of her decision. She was currently at her desk, one hand cradling her head the other grasping a pen to write. The first effect was that she missed Richard, she ached and felt incomplete. A soldier who had lost his arm had described his phantom pain.

_I can still feel it, you know, if I close my eyes I can feel the muscles twitch. As if I can extend my hand and pick up a fork and eat. Then I open my eyes and see that the arm is gone yet I can still _feel_ it._

When Isobel closed her eyes she could feel Richard's hands gliding down her back. She clutched the pen in her hand and banged it down onto the desk rattling the still full cup of tea. The second effect was she was hungry, Ethel's cooking was appalling and her tea was abysmal.

_What I think is that you are so consumed with doing the right thing that you miss doing the smart thing._

His words came back to her and she found herself fighting the urge to cry.


	17. Chapter 17

Isobel woke, her heart hammering against the ribs in her chest. She had woken every night like this for a week. Disgusted that she was covered with sweat she ran a bath at a quarter to four in the morning.

Yesterday at the hospital there were whispers heard about Ethel. Most of the them were vague references, so far they hadn't named named yet the implication was there. A whore was in the village. Being in the hospital was torture for Isobel and for Richard too. They longed to be together. In the end Isobel had left she couldn't bear it. With Ethel in her home she couldn't work at the shelter either since she had to be at Crawley House. As Isobel bathed she found she was angry. She hadn't slept well in a week and she hadn't eaten well either. Her hands curled around the soap, too much pressure was applied and soap shot out of her hand. She grunted before forming a fist and pounding the water, the water rose in a violent splash. She knew it was childlike and stupid but she couldn't help it.

Richard had fallen asleep at his desk, his neck was stiff and he was cold. He hadn't been to his cottage for Isobel was not there. He hadn't washed his sheets, he couldn't stand the thought of washing away her scent but being surrounded by it was agony. It was easier to stay at the hospital and work.

"Did you hear about Tom's announcement at breakfast? He wants the child to be a left-footer." Lord Grantham said as he barged into the drawing room where his wife and Edith were having a break.

"Papa, I know it's hard." Edith began before she was rudely cut off by her father.

"There hasn't been a Catholic Crawley since the Reformation." Lord Grantham said in a teacher like tone.

Cora didn't look up from her copy of Vogue, "She isn't a Crawley. She's a Branson."

Sometimes the American attitude of his wife irked him, today he let his ire show, "The only chance that child will have of achieving anything is because of the blood of her mother."

At this Cora did look up her face set into a determined visage, "Well, I don't agree."

Isobel felt trapped in her home and was finding every excuse to leave Crawley House. A letter had arrived for Matthew and she decided that she should hand deliver it to the Abbey.

She was surprised when Mary answered the door instead of Carson, "Have you come for dinner?"

What she didn't know was that Mary was hiding , not wanting to be with their "guest".

Isobel felt shame that she was desperate to say yes just to have a decent meal, "No. I'm dressed quite wrongly, and you have a guest."

Mary rolled her eyes and Isobel felt a pang of sadness for it reminded her of Richard, "I doubt Mr Travis has much of an eye for fashion. Oh, do stay. We need cheering up."

In the library before dinner Isobel had wished she had said no she kept to herself in the corner. Matthew saw this and knew something was wrong, he covertly asked Carson to ring for Dr. Clarkson and have him come to the Abbey at his earliest convenience. The gong was rung, it was time for dinner.

"Isn't there something or other un-English about the Roman Church?" Cousin Violet lilted.

"Since I am an Irishman, that's not likely to bother me" Tom said without Malice, he rather liked Cousin Violet at least she always said exactly what was on her mind. There was no cloak and dagger nonsense..

"I cannot feel bells and incense and all the rest of that pagan fodder is pleasing to God." Travis said with an air of disgust.

No one seemed able to speak.

"So is he not pleased by the population of France or Italy?" Matthew asked and Isobel felt pride at her son's words

Reverend Travis smiled deviously, "Not as pleased as he is by the worship of the Anglicans."

Edith was still bitter over her treatment by her family over her offer to write for a magazine and added, "South America, Portugal - have they missed the mark, too? I do not mean to sound harsh."

"I'm sure there are many individuals from those lands who please him." Travis said in concession.

Isobel laughed, "We haven't started on the non-Christians, the whole Indian subcontinent for example!"

A genuine smile lit up the Reverend's face making it seem eerie, "Yes but the British Empire will aid in their salvation. I must say that reminds me is it because of the Empress of India that you gave your daughter an Indian name?"

Tom put down his napkin, "Our daughter's name is pronounced Row-a. From radharc it means a vision. To be honest it was Dr. Clarkson who gave me the idea. After he had saved them both he looked at our baby and said, 'A vision that one.'"

Sybil and Tom beamed at one another the love between them obvious. The moment was sweet but didn't last.

"Poor Mr Travis, you're all ganging up on him." Lord Grantham said with a laugh.

"You and Granny are ganging up against Tom." Mary informed.

Cousin Violet bristled "Not me! The Dowager Duchess of Norfolk is a dear friend. And she's more Catholic than the Pope! I simply do not think that it would help the baby to be baptized into a different tribe from this one."

Ignoring the kick from his wife Tom said softly, "She will be baptized into my tribe."

"Honestly everyone I don't mind" Sybil said exasperatedly .

"I'm flabbergasted." Violet declared.

"You're always flabbergasted by the unconventional." Isobel declared.

"I've no wish to persecute Catholics, but I find it hard to believe they're loyal to the crown." Travis said.

Isobel looked puzzled before asking, "I'm sorry. Please remind me were British Catholics spared from conscription then during the war?"

Tom covered his laugh by taking a sip of water.

Reverend Travis was undisturbed by the fact that he would clearly not be baptizing the newest member at Downton. Instead he turned to Isobel and reached for his own glass, "Let's switch topics, tell me Mrs. Crawley how is your new servant working?"

His emphasis on the word working made Isobel shiver.

Matthew was confused, "New servant?"

Isobel chose her words carefully, "Mrs. Bird has gone back to Manchester."

She hoped that would be enough to for Matthew to drop the conversation it would have been if Travis hadn't said, "My next sermon is going to be about Mary Magdalene perhaps your maid would like to attend?"

No one missed his meaning.

After dinner Reverend Travis fled leaving Isobel at the mercy of her "family".

Everyone had an opinion, some were shouted and some weren't. Most of the family wasn't concerned with Ethel it was the fact that her presence looked bad on _them, _that scandal might touch _them_. Blissfully unaware that scandal wouldn't probably wouldn't have them starve to death a fate the Ethel faced daily. There was someone at the door, Carson went to let them in.

"So in your whole life you've never made a mistake that required help from someone else in order to save you?" Isobel asked her voice high and sharp. She leveled her gaze first at Mary whose cheeks burned with shame over the recollection of Mr. Pamuk and Sir Richard Carlisle, she then looked at Lord Grantham who held her gaze before looking away. His gamble on the Canadian railroad which necessitated Matthew's involvement to save the very dwelling they were in. Matthew not wanting to see his mother's laser like gaze simply stared at his shoes, a holdover from when he was younger. Sybil and Tom were frozen on the spot they had never seen Isobel so fired up.

In the entryway Richard heard Isobel's voice and began racing towards it. He entered the library to see his love shaking with blind fury.

"Oh I see, it's fine for you." Rage was burning through her and she felt her hand closing in a fist, what she had forgotten was that she was currently holding a glass of sherry. The glass shattered and the alcohol soaked into the fresh cuts in her hands burning them. She didn't even flinch. Only Dr. Clarkson responded and came to her side whispering something that others could not hear. He then led her away.

* * *

**A/N: I wish to say thank you once again to those who have reviewed, it really helps. **


	18. Chapter 18

Isobel's hand was Dr. Clarkson's primary concern, he also needed to get her out and away from those around her. In the state she was in he was liable to have more patients! Knowing that the hand couldn't wait he bypassed all the others and headed for the servant's hall. Mrs. Hughes saw them and ushered them to her sitting room. He calmly opened his bag and methodically began retrieving the items he needed. First he began by using tweezers to extricate the shards he could see, he was thankful that sherry had been in the glass disinfecting the wounds would be a moot point. Then he employed a magnifying glass to examine her hand in case there were more shards hiding beneath the surface that he couldn't see.

Isobel was muttering and Richard could only make out snippets. She would mutter then shake her head. When her flesh was free of glass and bandaged he offered his own hand palm up and her uninjured hand took it eagerly.

Her eyes held a mixture of anger and disbelief, "I just.." She blew out a breath, her bandaged hand rose as if to accentuate the fact that there were no words for what she wanted to express. It took a moment for her thoughts to coalesce into something understandable. "All of them, well not all Sybil was quiet and Tom was trying to be diplomatic...The rest were so willing at dinner to practically die for something that didn't really matter. In the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter! I doubt God will care what religion that child is baptized in. Yet, there they were, lobbing points, being shouty, interrupt-y nearly jabbing fingers. Devil may care! Being tough, tough, tough."

Her eyes met his and he saw that they were glassy with unshed tears, "Now when faced with real problem, something tangible. Like the fact a woman might starve to death without employment- Where is the passion? It was just wailing of 'oh that will look bad on me!' Then all they could do was stand there like the dummies you put clothes on to display in a shop front window."

She then gave Richard a look that made his heart melt, she then ran her good hand down his face. "But you, you came in and looked as if there was a fire!"

Leaning forward she kissed him, "Oh please take me home, and not to that monstrosity of Crawley House. Take me home, I want to go home."

Ever since that day at the Police Station he knew he would take her wherever she wished. If she felt that she could no longer stay here he would leave with her. He couldn't be without her, he gently kissed her back before leaning his forehead against hers. "Let's go home."

If anyone saw them leave by the servants entrance it was not reported. Richard got Isobel situated in the car and drove to his cottage-their home. Once inside they went straight to the bedroom and faced one another. Richard couldn't resist and had to taste her lips. Happily Isobel's uninjured hand came to anchor in his hair and keep him close. Her injury made undressing a tad awkward. Nevertheless, their clothes were shed slowly. When Isobel muttered a curse Richard grinned before aiding her in unbuttoning her blouse. Once bared to one another they arranged themselves in bed. Isobel resting her head on his shoulder while his hand glided up and down her bare back. The phantom pain that had plagued Isobel was gone, and she moaned in contentment. Richard buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply, his sheets had been a poor substitution to this.

Isobel turned her face into Richard's skin and place hot kisses against it before pillowing her head once more. "Please don't send me away again, I understand why you did before but please...not again."

"Never again, I swear it." He said in truth, he'd rather cut off his own arm than be without her. She believed it, sighing in relief.

Tonight would not be a night they made love, tonight was for their skin to touch each others and soothe the hurt caused in their absence. Each touch brought with it relaxation and for the first time in a week they fell into restful sleep.

Matthew, Mary, Lord Grantham and Lady Cora slept fitfully that night. All the tossing and turning had Lord Grantham retreating to his dressing room. However, since he rarely slept in here the bed was a foreign territory and he found sleep elusive. In the morning Mrs. Hughes found she had been summoned by Lord and Lady Grantham and she was nervous. Lady Cora was the one to address her, "Mrs. Hughes, I remember that you were involved with the Bryant's and the housemaid Ethel Parks? What developments have happened since then that you know of?"

Slowly Mrs. Hughes began telling them of Ethel's choice to keep her child after the disastrous luncheon. Cora listened intently for she had been quite unaware of things due to her incapacitation with the Spanish Flu. Mrs. Hughes then told them all of Ethel's fall into prostitution, the women's shelter, and eventual relinquishment of her son into the hands of his grandparents with the help of Mrs. Crawley.

Matthew then spoke, "All right I understand that, what I don't understand is Mother's loyalty. This fierce devotion."

Mary stroked her husband's arm, "Darling your Mother is devoted to many things this is one of the things that makes her who she is."

Matthew shook his head, "We're missing something."

Elsie swallowed hard, "When Mrs. Crawley saw Ethel in York she followed her, she was then attacked by the man Ethel was with. Ethel alerted the Police and minded your mother...even gave a statement to the Police. That is why."


	19. Chapter 19

Matthew couldn't seem to focus, his mother had been assaulted and had seemed fit not to tell him. A thought then occurred to him, _Who came for her?_

The occupants in the room let out a yelp of alarm when Matthew launched up and out of his armchair and went for the telephone. Mary followed as did the others and watched as Matthew asked to be put through to the Police Station in York. With his background in the law he knew which question to ask to get the information he wanted.

As Robert watched his son-in-law he was dazzled by his use of the law. While being a lawyer might be middle class Robert was suddenly fiercely proud that Matthew was part of his family. Sybil left the circle and went upstairs no doubt to be with Radha. He then realized that attending a Catholic Baptism wouldn't kill him. Everyone was quiet as Matthew listened before ending the conversation with "Thank you very much, have a good day."

As he replaced the earpiece he could feel the stares of everyone. "It seems, Mother asked for Doctor Clarkson and he came that day and picked her up."

"Why wouldn't he tell us?" Mary asked.

"Probably doctor/patient confidentiality." Matthew said off hand.

While that might be the official reason the doctor might give a handful of people knew the real reason. Edith broke the silence, "Does it really matter? She asked for him and he did as she asked. Mrs. Crawley and Doctor Clarkson aren't the problem. We are. She didn't feel comfortable coming to us and now we have this Ms. Parks to see to."

Lord Robert turned to his daughter, while she might not have Mary's looks or Sybil's compassion she had the best common sense and knowledge. At that moment his heart broke for her, the fiasco of her wedding amongst other things that she had dealt with.

Knowing that Richard wouldn't banish her from the cottage had her willingly going back to Crawley House. Ethel greeted her and asked no questions as to where she had been. She only asked if there was anything from the village she needed to pick up for her hand.

"No, thank you Ethel. However, you should be made aware of some things." Isobel said flatly.

Ethel scrubbed a hand over her face, "I don't like the sound of this Mrs. Crawley, perhaps we should have some tea first."

Isobel was impressed, Ethel's tea was becoming better. Ethel listened as the encounter with Travis was told.

"I should just leave." The redhead said softly.

Isobel shook her head, "And go where? It's noble of you to want to go but there must be a plan." She scoffed before adding, "Sometimes the right thing isn't the smart thing." She said with a smirk.

Both went about their day, Ethel tidying the house while Isobel sat at her desk going through correspondence. Around noon the bell rang, it was Dr. Clarkson on a house call to check her wound.

In the sitting room he removed his jacket before rolling up his sleeves. The bandage was unwound and he inspected the wound. "Closing quite nicely. I doubt you need the wrappings as long as you keep it clean."

Isobel nodded at his word. Silently he placed everything back into his bag. While it was inappropriate he didn't care he kissed her lips before leaving Crawley House. When the bell rang again Isobel wondered what Richard had forgotten only to see Ethel's face white as she announced "Mr. Branson."

After the scene at dinner last night she knew it was just a matter of time before she was graced with a visit. She was just honestly and pleasantly surprised that it was the Irishman.

"Would you care for tea?" Isobel asked.

Tom smiled widely, "Yes that would be lovely."

_This was going to be interesting_. Both of them thought.

Having just had a cup Isobel forced herself to drink another, it helped that Ethel's tea was leaps and bounds better than when she first came here. "May I be bold and ask which short straw you drew to bring you here?"

He laughed, "I volunteered actually."

Tom took a sip before setting his teacup down, face becoming serious. "Cousin Isobel, everyone wants to apologize for last night. I saw Dr. Clarkson leaving as I was arriving, how is your hand?"

She held her hand out so he could see the scabs criss-crossing her palm, "Dr. Clarkson says it's healing well."

Tom sighed he didn't want to beat around the bush, "What can we do to aid Ms. Parks?"

At this moment she wished that someone else had come for she didn't want to bark at Tom. "Nothing, that is what you can do."

He understood but had to ask for it had been discussed, "Would a sum help?"

If it had been anyone but Tom asking she would have verbally eviscerated him but she knew these were not his words, "This problem can't be solved by throwing money at it. Now I'm sure Ethel won't be one to talk but what if she did, and told her fellow workers there was a magical place where you could get money just by showing up."

Tom knew this all too well, his stomach twisted in remembrance of Lord Grantham withdrawing his cheque book as if money would get him to give up Sybil, "You should know Mrs. Hughes told us what happened to you in York."

Isobel sighed and reached for her tea.

"Matthew had a bee in his bonnet for a bit because you didn't telephone him first but he got over it. You might think it changes things but it doesn't." Tom delivered sagely.

"Really? I'm sure there was concern but surely there is some smugness that have reaped what I have sown?" She uttered, turning so Tom wouldn't she the color rising in her cheeks. She remembered that look on Cora's face with the convalescent home. "Also don't think that I don't know where the money came from with my work with the refugees. They could care less about by work as long as it doesn't interfere with their lives. If my work follows me home like a stray dog it needs to be shot on the spot." She spat.

Sighing Tom tapped the table softly "get your coat."

"What?" She asked sharply.

"Just get a coat and come with me." He ordered as he pointing to the door.

* * *

Isobel was flying, the wind cool and bracing against her face, closing her eyes she welcomed the sensation. Tom was expertly navigating the roads, driving had always helped him think. When he discovered that he could earn a decent wage doing something he loved it had been an easy decision to become a chauffeur. Being married to Sybil his driving time was somewhat limited so any chance to control an engine had him chomping at the bit. Cousin Isobel needed this, to let her anger be taken by the wind. To let the air caress her skin and take away the sting of last night.

God! Last night had been one of the most miserable encounters he had ever had at Downton Abbey up there with him being drugged by Lord Merton's son. That foul Mr. Travis and then the display in the library. Tom reflected he knew what marrying Sybil would entail and he had seen what the Crawley household was like. However, he thought he would be protected by Ireland by being in a different country altogether. That had been destroyed by a mistake, just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Mrs. Crawley had not chosen to join the Crawley family as he had. The death of Patrick Crawley on the Titanic had taken her from a life in Manchester where she could do as she pleased to life in Downton where her actions were scrutinized. As he began to turn the wheel to negotiate a bend he realized Mrs. Crawley had made the mistake of following Ethel. He then thought of the prostitutes, women who couldn't find work. For some reason he thought of his sister-in-law. Lady Mary had had to marry to secure a position and a position meant money. Ethel had to demean herself for money. It was all about money.

Beside him Isobel was smiling into the wind, he then slowed the car, "Should I take you back?"

Isobel chewed on her lip before she showed him her hand, "Can you take me to the hospital? This itches and I want to know if Dr. Clarkson can give me something."

"Of course." His hand went to the gear stick and Isobel covered it.

"Can we go around again first?" She asked her eyes twinkling. Never one to refuse a lady he put the car in gear and turned into the wind.

* * *

"What do you mean 'nothing'?" Lord Grantham asked.

"What she means is there is nothing really we can do. Unless we can find her another position for which she will need a reference." Tom said again slowly hoping if he spoke slower the words would sink in.

Lord Grantham shook his head, "I just can't believe there isn't something."

Cora tried to soothe her husband, "Mrs. Hughes has exhausted all of her contacts and the War left many homes unable to support themselves let alone servants. In this country there is no option."


	20. Chapter 20

At the hospital Richard was at his desk stuck with paperwork. A nurse knocked on his door summoning him. He sighed before capping his fountain pen and walking out into the ward. Isobel was there standing by the window. The sheer curtain had diffused the light and she seemed to glow."Are you all right?"

She held out her hand to him, "It itches" She announced.

He moved closer towards her and held out his own hand so she would give him hers which she did. He looked at her palm before running his finger lightly over the scabs. The scabs were a good color, there was no pus or red streaks. "Itching means it's healing" he said softly.

Isobel knew this but she wanted a valid medical reason to see Richard instead of the excuse of being love-sick. The fact that he he couldn't openly touch her was like a blow to the gut the only consolation was that he would get to hold her tonight.

"Dr. Clarkson!" A cheerful voice beckoned.

Richard turned it was his intern, junior doctor Paul Tiller. Isobel smiled before moving away.

Cora's words had started the gears turning in Robert's head. He asked for Tom to stay behind in the library.

"I hate asking this but I feel I must, do you have any contacts in Ireland?"

Tom's eyes widened to the point where Robert thought they might pop out of his head. "I beg your pardon?"

Robert was trying to hide his frustration, "In Ireland, do you know of a place that Ethel might find work."

Suddenly Tom wished he was in the passenger seat of a car with Isobel driving him at great speed. Did his father-in-law not understand that the people he knew were likely to be servants not have them? Also the fact remained that Ethel was English. An English woman in Ireland may not be that well received. Tom mentally counted to ten before answering, "I'm sorry I don't of any places and since my brother Kieran lives in Liverpool it is unlikely that he knows of any places either."

A new country was not going to be the answer for Ethel but it would be the answer for two others currently residing in Downton. A couple had left before dawn in a car heading North. Their destination was Gretna Green the village made famous for runaway weddings. However, Mrs. Crawley was not a 12 year old girl and Doctor Clarkson was not a 14 year old boy seeking to wed sans their parents permission. When the blacksmith shop was in sight Isobel let out a chuckle as did Richard. His left hand reached out for hers on instinct he offered it palm up. Isobel's eyes once again went to Richard's doctors bag. Inside was all the documents they needed, she had held Richard's birth certificate lovingly. With it they could bypass the 21 day residency needed to marry. Richard had told her that that rule was often ignored yet they didn't want to be the ones caught out.

When the anvil of the blacksmith shop came into view Isobel felt a rush of excitement. The car was maneuvered and parked. The blacksmith wasn't open yet it was the small building off to the side that they had come for and it had just opened. In they went and presented their paperwork. The clerk was impressed at the meticulousness of the couple. Generally he had randy teenagers breezing in here not having a clue as to the process. Isobel and Richard were sitting on a small bench when the Clerk bellowed, "Clarkson!" They rose and followed the clerk into a small room. As they passed through the door Richard knew that when he came back out he would no longer be a bachelor. His only regret was that his Mother was not alive to see it.

With the ceremony over the clerk took a fountain pen and wrote in all the information onto their marriage certificate. Isobel's hands shook slightly as she reached for it for she was now Mrs. Isobel Clarkson. Outside there were more couples on the benches waiting for their turn. Outside the building Isobel saw that the blacksmith shop along with others had opened. Jewellery was on display and a ring caught her eye. "Which one?" Richard asked his voice landing richly in her ear. She pointed at the desired object. Richard handed over some notes and the ring was hers.

As she placed it on her finger she found herself laughing out loud and Richard came and embraced her, kissing her for he felt it too. The sense of elation, of freedom of having eloped. Last night when Isobel had come to his cottage at dusk he was determined that she wouldn't have to leave again.

_Isobel sat and watched as Richard stoked the fire, "Remember today when Dr. Tiller needed my attention?"_

_She took a moment to remember and she did, "yes I do."_

_He continued to stoke the fire, the poker jabbing the wood into a better position, "Well originally he had tomorrow off but it seems something in his plans have changed. So he wanted to know if he could switch with me."_

_Isobel brightened, "So tomorrow you would have off?"_

_"Yes" he said his blue eyes gazing into hers with mischief._

_"So we could spend all morning in bed?" She asked with equal mischief._

_He took a measured breath through his nose, "Actually no, I was thinking of going out."_

_"Where?" Isobel asked_

_"North." Was the simple answer._

_"North? What's is up North?" Isobel asked curiously._

_"Gretna Green." Richard said calmly._

_The location was not lost on Isobel, "Am I being proposed to?"_

_Richard was rooted to the spot, "Yes, say yes. Marry me."_

_"Yes, I'll marry you." She declared._

_Her answer had him moving again, he was in front of her in two strides. Once there he kissed with all the pent-up longing he had. The raw intensity of which he kissed her was shocking. Yes, she had been kissed before but this primal feeling of want emanating from the man holding her was something new. Yes, Reginald had wanted her but in all their encounters it seemed as though he was restrained. Richard seemed to have no such restrictions and she kissed him back with the same fervor. _

_It seemed right to take wedding privileges before the wedding, for they had been by each others side for so long that the legality of their union would be a formality. She pulled on his arm but he wasn't to be moved. _

_"No, here." He rasped._

_All she could do was nod in her assent. He captured her hands and brought them to his neck while he mirrored the actions with his own hands. She understood, they would begin as they always would with them removing each others clothes. His shirt whispered off his body while her skit slithered to the floor. A pile formed around their feet and Richard kicked it with his feet to arrange it. Carefully Isobel was brought down so she was cushioned against the harshness of the floor. While the gesture was thoughtful in her current state he needn't have bothered. He wanted her now and she wanted to be wanted. I was one thing for a lover to say I love you or I need you. But the raw animalistic want made the moment sharp and clear. She would remember the details of this coupling forever._

_The fire beside them was giving off a pleasing warmth yet his body was warmer. There was something about the feel of skin made warm from a beating heart that could sear you. His fingers were trailing heat wherever he touched and she wanted him to touch her everywhere. Neck, breasts, flanks and thighs were branded by his touch and she moaned in appreciation. Richard would gladly touch her, in less than twenty-four hours she would be his wife. _

_His knees came between hers and she the sounds she was making was making it nearly impossible for him to control himself. As her own hands travelled up his back he realized that she was giving him permission. He could cede all his control to her. Taking a deep breath his hips moved to become flush with hers and he gave her all his control. _

_She moaned._

_He bucked._

_Her nails raked down his back._

_He sighed._

_Her hair was gathered in his fists._

_His shoulder was nibbled._

_All the while their hips rose and fell. Two mature bodies moved together but not creakily their motion was fluid. As if they were the descendants of Demophon made perfect and young by fire. _

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**_A/N: Flood warnings a plenty here in CA if postings are sporadic it's due to the bailing with a bucket!_**


	21. Chapter 21

Richard and Isobel spent as much time as they could in Gretna Green before they piled back into the car and drove back into England. In her hands Isobel held the wedding certificate, she kept checking it, fearful that the ink may have vanished on it somehow.

Doctor Clarkson now had a Mrs. Doctor Clarkson as his own. They returned to Downton just before the sun kissed the hills. Their honeymoon would have to wait since this day had been a boon by Dr. Tiller. Still with night beginning to fall there were still ways to celebrate a wedding. The car came to halt beside Crawley House and Isobel was confused.

Richard cleared his throat, "we should tell Ethel. I'm now your husband so I can stay with you freely."

Isobel inwardly sighed, he wasn't breaking his promise and sending her away. Together they went into Crawley House.

"Married, you two?" Ethel asked her voice laced with shock.

Isobel nodded.

The shock had given way excitement and the need to know details."When?"

"Just this morning" Richard answered.

Isobel told Ethel of Gretna Green, of the clerk in the office the blacksmith shop. The maid listened to it all with rapt attention. At the end Isobel asked. "How have things been?"

While she had only been away for a day not a fortnight she still asked. When Ethel's face tightened she knew something had happened. "The Baker refused to serve me. Mrs. Hughes was in the village and saw, she took the money and bought what I needed."

Ethel didn't want her black cloud to cast a pall over Dr. and Mrs. Clarkson's wedding day. She glanced down and saw Isobel's hand. "lovely ring." She said hoping to steer the conversation back to something more cheerful.

"May I use your telephone?" Richard asked.

His wife stammered, "Yes, what for?"

"Going to ring the Hospital, let them know they can reach me here tonight." He answered nonchalantly.

Isobel's cheeks burned with a blush, Ethel saw this and said she would bring tea. Isobel thought about how to tell the family and then decided that she didn't need to. They had done nothing wrong, they had married within the law. Parental consent was not needed so why the need to disclose this information. When he came back to her she asked him. "I want people to know but I don't want to tell them all at the same time."

"I know what you mean, I want to keep you to myself yet there is no shame I wish to conceal." Nodded Richard comically.

Isobel pointed towards the bookshelf, "It's like The Purloined Letter"

It took a moment for Richard's mind to put substance to her reference, "Hide in plain sight?"

"Yes, you stay here when I must we attend functions together." She slowly began moving towards him, " Be a pair."

At her approach his heart began to beat quicker, his wife was approaching...his wife!

The knowledge of this fact flared in him a deep possessiveness, more than he had felt when he had escorted her through that snake pit in York, which he didn't think was possible. His fingers reached for her cheek. As he made contact Isobel heard the rattling of china and rolled her eyes. Richard smirked and called out, "Ethel, is that the tea?"

"Yes, sir" her voice drifted through the door.

"Can you leave it on the table near the door?" He asked.

There was a muffled giggle, "Yes sir."

Bringing his other hand up to touch her other cheek, "Let's hide." he whispered before kissing his wife.

The issue of Ethel was quickly put on the back burner by the issue of young Radha's baptism. Tom had already made the arrangements with Father Dominic for the Catholic Church in Ripon. It somehow escaped the family that when Tom was just Branson he would go to this church on Sunday's for mass. Robert had conceded defeat long ago yet he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow this would damage Radha in someway.

His mind carried him back to the day that Sybil had left for Ireland, the funeral of Miss Lavinia Swire.

_"The aristocracy has not survived by its intransigence. Oh, no, no, we must work with what we've got to minimize the scandal." His mother told him._

_"But what have we got to work with?" He nearly wailed in the graveyard._

_His mother shot him a look that she hadn't used since he was a child, "Well, you'd be surprised. He's political, isn't he? And a writer. Well, I could make something out of that. And there's a family called Branson with a place not far from Cork. I believe they have a connection with the Howards. Well, surely, we can hitch him onto them."_

Robert scoffed at the memory. While Tom's politics caused some awkward moments he had been on his best behavior since his exile. As he came into the library for breakfast he asked, "Tom, what date have you set? Would you mind if we had a gathering here afterward?"

At the cottage the post slot clanked signalling the arrival of letters. Richard squatted down and retrieved the envelopes. As he read the invitation to Radha Sybil Branson's baptism he smiled.

Isobel was at Crawley House, she had needed some papers for the shelter. Whilst there other things that she had forgotten about demanded attention. It was during the afternoon that Ethel handed her mail. Some were from other charities wanting her help or money. One letter had a local postmark, she opened it and found the baptismal invite.

The day had come for Radha's baptism. Father Dominic welcomed everyone inside. Isobel watched as Richard dipped his right fore and middle finger in the stoup and blessed himself up entrance to the church. Isobel was stunned, she had had absolutely no clue that he was a Catholic. A thousand questions popped up in her head at once clamoring for attention. As they made their way to the pew the organ began playing a hymn. Isobel looked ahead and saw that the church had a similar layout to that of the Downton Church and had the hymn numbers posted. She turned to Richard, he winked at her as if to say, "Don't worry, I will tell you everything later." The hymn was found and their voices joined those singing.

Lord and Lady Grantham were too nervous about the event to notice that Richard and Isobel arrived together. It was only when they sat down together on the same pew that Cousin Violet made a mental note. However, with a congregation of twelve it would be in bad taste to have Dr. Clarkson sit away from the family.

As the hymn ended Father Dominic came to stand before them all and said, "may the lord be with you."

Only Tom, Kieran and Richard answered with outstretched hands, "And also with you." Mary, Matthew indeed the all the inhabitants from Downton Abbey save for Tom were mute. Upon hearing another voice in the answer Lord Robert turned to see that it was Doctor Clarkson who had spoken.

The priest then began, "A reading from the book of Luke"

Isobel watched as Richard's right thumb went to his forehead, his lips and then his chest. At each stop his thumb made a gesture, looking around she saw Tom and Kieran doing the same thing. Richard ignored the looks around him and enjoyed the service. As was customary communion was to be given, Isobel moved aside to let Richard through. He leaned down, "If you cross your arms across your chest you can walk up and the priest will give you a blessing."

While she wasn't a baptized Catholic he had given her a way to share this experience. Nodding he moved back so she could go before him. She crossed her arms and walked forward, Father Dominic was surprised. So far she was the only protestant in line. It was an odd procession Tom, his brother Kieran, Isobel and then Richard came before the Priest. After Isobel received her blessing she could hear Richard behind her and his whispered "Amen".

There were pictures to be taken, the photographer called "Family."

Bodies moved to form a line and Isobel tightened her grip on her husband, hide in plain sight! The photographer merely placed him on the end. Again no one save Cousin Violet took any notice. It was time for everyone to leave Ripon and make their way back to the Abbey. In the car Isobel found she didn't know where to start. Luckily for her Richard could glean her thoughts. "The Clarkson line has been Catholic since the emancipation. My Mother was devout my Father not so much. It's funny I thought it would please my Mother being a doctor but she seemed disappointed somehow. It was my Father who encouraged me the most to go into medicine."

Hearing about Richard's past made her feel closer to him. However, she couldn't get over the fact that Richard was a Catholic. "I've seen you at services in Downton."

Richard smiled and laughed, "I get invites from my patients to attend church and when I can I go, like you said 'I doubt God will care'. Being around protestants doesn't make me one just like you working with prostitutes doesn't make you a whore."

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**A/N: Been cleaning up after the rain, hope you enjoy.**


	22. Chapter 22

Isobel felt a swell of emotion towards her husband at his words, so many couldn't make the connection he did. She thought back to the baptism and a thought struck her. "You won't go to hell will you?"

"What?" He barked.

"We weren't married when...that's a sin!" Isobel babbled.

Richard chuckled, "Do you know there is nothing in the Bible about engaged couples doing what we did."

Isobel couldn't speak. Richard glanced at her, "I have been loyal to you since you put that adrenaline in my hand, you might as well given me a ring that day."

She thought of the conversations they had together over tea, the arguments! How well they worked side-by-side with patients being able to communicate without speaking. Her bold comments, his eyerolls! One memory in particular came to the forefront, being in his office when she announced that she would be leaving for France.

_His face was stony, "You'll be missed"_

_Her heart had leapt at his words but it wasn't enough to soothe the hurt done by Lady Grantham. "By you, possibly. I hope so, anyway."_

She had been in love with him then but had refused to acknowledge it. Glancing over again he could see her face was no longer etched with fear.

Richard didn't want her to think that she had hurt him in anyway, "If it makes you feel better I can go to confession would you like that?"

Isobel inhaled deeply, "I want to go to Sunday Service with you, I want to know more about the things that are important to you. For instance what was that motion you did? I know about the sign of the cross but the other motion you, Tom and Kieran did."

Richard racked his brain, he couldn't think of what she was referring to.

Isobel prompted him, "you scratched your head and lips with your thumb."

Realization dawned, "Oh this!" He nearly shouted and repeated the movement and Isobel yelped in affirmation. Richard thought of how to phrase it, "You make the sign of the cross with your thumb and touch your forehead, lips and heart. So that…" He waved his hand in a circle to bring his thoughts together, "So that God is blessing your thoughts, words and emotions."

Isobel shook her head, this crash course in Catholicism was overwhelming.

"Next Sunday we'll go to Mass together." He declared and her hand reached to cover one of his. The simple fact that she wanted to go to Mass with him had him feeling warm inside.

The Abbey was filled with people, people were in attendance to see young Radha. When Richard and Isobel arrived Tom went out of his way to greet them. "Ah, a fellow left-footer!" Tom said in greeting.

Clarkson laughed, "Well I'm left-handed so it's a bonus."

Lord Grantham inwardly winced, to his shame he recalled uttering those words about Tom. His granddaughter was now a member of the Catholic church. While he wasn't thrilled with the decision he knew he would pummel anyone who called his granddaughter such a name. While he himself wouldn't be attending services in Ripon he was not going to stop Tom, Radha or anyone else from going and he would keep his mouth shut.

Cora called him over, John Foyle was admiring the baby. "Robert she is darling and you must be so pleased to be grandfather...how I envy you." He said genuinely his gaze never leaving the perfect bundle in Sybil's arms.

Money and power were nothing if there were no descendants Lord Grantham thought. No, it was more than that you needed your kin to speak your name in love and remembrance not hate and despicable gladness that you're dead.

Radha was a Branson, she was a Catholic but she was also his. The best part of his daughter which was the best part of him. "Sybil" Robert said softly as he held his arms out. Her father looked as if he were about to cry yet she handed over her daughter. Robert held his granddaughter carefully before moving to an armchair. He sat there for nearly an hour and no one disturbed him.

Downstairs there was flurry of activity, the kitchen staff were putting the finishing touches on the food before it would be carried upstairs for the guests to pick at. Anna came towards her with a large envelope, "This was delivered for you at the back door."

She tore open the bottom of the envelope and out slithered a key, she used to fingers to scissor open the envelope and pinch out the letter. She read the contents quickly before leaning against a wall.

_Dear Mrs. Hughes,_

_ I have left Downton, I have left England. There was no way for me to stay in this country knowing that Charlie was still here. I had dreams once, I remember flipping through magazines in the servants hall at Downton Abbey. My dream now is for my son to grow up and make something of his life. Something good, I don't want him ruining his chance to do that by searching for me. Everyone has tried to find me a new place to start but it hasn't worked. I should be the one to find my way and I have. I've gained employment on an ocean liner as a maid. With the constant change of passengers I won't have people whispering about me. I have written this letter to you since I feel you can best tell it to Mrs. Clarkson. She was kind in many ways and it may seem odd but this is my gift to her. To show her I can and will be alright on my own. I haven't taken anything from Crawley House. Have Mr. Molesley check it if you wish._

_Sincerely,_

_ Ethel Parks_

Elsie was glad that breathing was an automatic function for she felt she would have died reading the letter. Ethel had left! And in her letter she mentioned Mrs. Clarkson. Elsie knew full well that Dr. Clarkson's mother had no hand in this so the only answer was that Mrs. Crawley and the good doctor had wed. She now had to think of a way to tell the new Mrs. Clarkson about Ethel.

She couldn't do it now with all the guests present. However, if she was indeed the only one told what would Mrs. Clarkson do when she found Crawley House empty? She would have to intercept them before then but how?

Guests were starting to leave, Kieran noticed this as well. "Well Tom, it was a lovely time but I must be going as well."

"Heading back to Liverpool?" Clarkson asked.

"The garage won't keep forever with me away." The Irishman lilted and Clarkson nodded in agreement,before Kieran left he came alongside Clarkson. "Doctor, when you can if you can. Help Radha with Catechism if she needs it. The nuns weren't too thrilled with Tom's explanations on transubstantiation, if I remember correctly he called it 'God is biscuit'".

Richard had to remember where he was to keep from laughing.

Isobel was with Mary and Matthew she saw the looks of longing on their faces as they gazed upon their niece. Matthew could hear the muffled laugh and saw it was Dr. Clarkson trying desperately not to draw attention to himself. Mary also saw and remarked, "Bit of a surprise this morning. I had no idea the doctor was Catholic."

Isobel grunted in agreement, "nor did I! He did tell me the bit about the blessing which is why I went. Didn't want Father Dominic to think we were all against him."

Matthew smiled, his Mother seemed to be whole once again. Her anger in the library over Ethel had been frightful. Never in his life had he seen her eyes flash in such a way. She had been right, everyone had made mistakes and everyone would continue to make them. It was what we did with the mistakes that made us into better people. Matthew thought he had learned that but his reaction to Ethel showed he had forgotten. Matthew watched as his mother absently rubbed at her forehead with her left hand. Her fingers caught his attention, there was something wrong but he couldn't put his finger on what.

Isobel also noticed that people were leaving and decided that it was time to go as well. Her dark blue church clothes were beginning to feel stiff and she longed for a bath. Dr. Clarkson came up to join the group, "May I drive you back to Crawley House? It's on my way to the hospital."

"Thank you that would be most kind." His mother answered.

Matthew watched as the doctor cocked his elbow for her to take and they made their way out of the Abbey.

Richard wasn't needed at the hospital for at least another hour so instead of dropping Isobel off he escorted her to the door. She turned the handle only to find it locked. She twisted it again only to encounter the same result.

"What is it?" Richard asked.

Isobel leaned on the door, "the door is locked."

Richard joined her and rattled the handle to satisfy his own curiosity. "Is it Ethel's day out?"

"No, the shopping was done earlier in the week and her day off is tomorrow." Isobel said somewhat flustered.

"Do you have a key in your handbag?" He asked.

"No, just a pair of gloves." She nearly wailed.

Richard started to go back to the car, "Well we'll just go back to the Abbey, I'm sure there is a spare key."

"And what give them more rope to hang Ethel with?" Her voice was raised and sharp

Footsteps captured their attention, it was Mrs. Hughes. The housekeeper calmly went to the door and unlocked it with a key. Isobel raced through the open door, "Ethel?" she called.

Mrs. Hughes came in and announced, "She's gone."

Isobel stopped and came towards the housekeeper, "Who made her leave? Someone must have said something!"

Mrs Hughes hung her head, "No, one made her leave and no one to my knowledge said anything to her. She left on her own."

"She told you this?" Isobel asked in disbelief

Mrs. Hughes nodded, "In a way."

Isobel's voice was quiet, "Why wouldn't she tell me?"

Elsie handed the letter to Isobel, "Read that...Mrs. Clarkson." Richard's head snapped up and Elsie gave him a warm smile before she handed him the key and left.

Sinking down into a chair Isobel read the letter. When she was done her mind contemplated the best way she could utilize Ethel's "gift". Rising from her chair she climbed the staircase to her room. Richard stayed in the drawing room, and read the letter himself. He sincerely hoped that Ethel could find a better world wherever she was sailing to. Was it the continent or was it to the New World as it was called? A thud drew his attention, Isobel had come back downstairs and had dropped a suitcase. "There is no reason for me to stay here now. Ethel is gone she doesn't need me as a minder. I don't care about hiding in plain sight, Mrs. Hughes called me Mrs. Clarkson. I just want to go home, take me home."

Richard picked up her suitcase and guided her to the car. As she settled into the passenger seat he stowed her suitcase. He then went to the front of Crawley house to secure the door. She could hear the door close from the car, to her it almost rivaled a gunshot for it was so piercing. She was suddenly glad that Richard was closing to the door in essence he was closing the door on her old life. She had once told him _We make choices._

As he made his way back to the car she made a vow that she would never regret making the choice to be with him.

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**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this story. Let me know your thoughts for I am not a mind reader.**


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